In The Silence That Followed
by Agent Five
Summary: Rescue after rescue and no downtime. Something like this was bound to happen. Set after 'Recharge' and before 'Chain Of Command'. (TAG but with some TOS references for good measure)
1. 1 Scott

_AN: So it's been a LONG time since I last published anything but I have been inspired by the fantastic TAG (2015) and the bunnies just will not keep silent._

 _Usual disclaimer: far greater minds created and own the source material. I will forever be grateful to their genius._

 _Rated for language and visceral descriptions of wounds/surgical procedures._

* * *

Thunderbird craft are loud. Take-off alone pushes 150 decibels, the explosive force of the ramjets cracking the air around them, rumbling through the volcanic rock and sending vibrations throughout the entire structure of the island base. Compensations in the design of the hangers and housing complex allowed for such, dampening the effects of the sounds and the forces generated, but still it was one hell of a racket.

Inside the ships themselves, the noise is more tolerable for the occupants within and even at supersonic speeds, the sound of the boom carpet rolling out behind the craft cannot be heard. But advances in technology had never been able to counteract the noise of the wind against the outer hull or the hum of a myriad of moving parts. For the untrained ear this would still be a considerable noise and spoken voices would be raised in compensation in order to be heard.

For the pilots of the Thunderbirds, the background noises of their craft in flight could be the comforting sounds of familiarity, of home and family. But not today. Today the sound was a hinderance, an added complication to an already stressful situation. In the compact medical bay deep within Thunderbird 2 it seemed suddenly far too noisy and Scott was struggling to hear the shallow breaths of his unbearably quiet brother

Turbulence shuddered through the craft and had Scott quickly grabbing the edge of the narrow bed. Speed was of the absolute essence now but Thunderbird Two had to navigate the approaching storm and reach her highest altitude, well above the land mass of North America, before she could really open up. The climb was bumpy and it was making Scott's job all the more difficult.

The ascent finally smoothed out a little and he could feel the craft banking gently. His balance regained, Scott resumed his secondary survey. Airway, he reminded himself, trying to see past the pallor of the face below him, the slight violet tinge to the lips. Focus. Try to forget that it's your brother and focus. Easier said than done.

Having already unzipped Virgil's uniform and sliced open the cotton undershirt, Scott now parted the material to again place a stethoscope bulb against his brother's chest. He closed his eyes as he tried to concentrate and listen. There was obvious bruising to the right side of Virgil's chest and he could feel the give and crackle of at least two broken ribs but the lung sounds were even and clear. Hanging the stethoscope back around his neck, Scott checked the readouts on the monitor and increased the flow of oxygen that fed the rebreather mask.

Gently adjusting the angle of Virgil's head and lifting his brother's jaw, Scott watched the oxygen saturation percentage rise and took a deep breath of his own. "There you go." He sighed, watching the color of his brother's unresponsive face improving a little "It's been a while since I intubated someone. Please don't make me do that today."

Scott's voice was quiet, lost in the rumbling around him and went unanswered by his still patient. Adjusting the cervical collar to keep his brother's head stable, Scott stepped away and quickly grabbed another bag of fluid to replace the empty one that had drained into the IV line he had sited. He glanced at the cardiac monitor and made a mental note of just how much volume it was requiring to keep his brother's blood pressure stable.

Scott swiped his arm across his face to clear away the beads of sweat and groaned in annoyance as he unzipped his own uniform and tugged the collar apart. His face was tight with worry as he grabbed a pen torch and examined his brother's eyes, gently lifting one eyelid and then the other. Good. No obvious head trauma.

A brief glance at the discarded helmet on the floor in the corner of the room and he had to be sure; the outer shell was dented and the visor cracked. Scott ran his fingers through his brother's dark hair and traced back along the contours of his skull to check for any imperfections or traces of blood.

"I guess it's shock that has you sleeping, huh?"

There was still no response. But then the mess of torn uniform and bloodied flesh at the other end of his brother's body had Scott almost glad for the apparent oblivion his brother was in.

It had been too dangerous at the accident site to assess Virgil before moving him and so the decision had been made to literally scoop and run. As soon as it was safe to stop they had hastily cut away his equipment sash and harness and strapped his limp body to a spinal board. Scott now worked around the straps as he continued his survey and he shook his head in dismay as he assessed his brother's injuries.

Scott pulled off the kevlar protection and let his hands glide over Virgil's uniform, looking for tears in the material and feeling for any imperfections in the muscles and bones beneath. There was a deep laceration to his right upper arm but it had already clotted over and Scott thought it best to leave it alone. He tucked the arm back down, careful to avoid snagging the IV line hastily taped to the back of his brother's hand.

The rest of Virgil's upper body seemed unharmed, though Scott could imagine the bruising that must be developing beneath the uniform. He swallowed back the bile that gathered in his throat; they had seen how Virgil had fallen - or, more importantly, how he had landed. Silently praying that there was no internal bleeding, Scott finally turned his focus to the damage that was very clearly visible; Virgil's left leg was a mess.

The rock slide that had pulled the ground from under Virgil and dropped him nearly thirty-five feet had been traumatic enough but the jagged granite that fell with him had torn through the thick neoprene uniform and gouged into the flesh beneath. Scott could recall his brother's initial cries of pain and shuddered at the memory as he then checked the pressure dressings that had been hastily wrapped around Virgil's thigh.

There had to be a fracture or dislocation somewhere under it all. Virgil's solid boots had taken the brunt of the force around his shins and ankles but his left leg was twisted at an odd angle, cradled in the makeshift splint of rolled up blankets. Walking round to the touchscreen interface embedded in the wall on the other side of the bed, Scott entered the commands for the scans he required and stood back.

The small robotic arm unfurled from the ceiling and reached out to hover over Virgil's head. The imaging cameras whirred into focus and then moved down along his body, tracing a 3D representation onto the monitor beside the bed.

Scott peered close at the screen and watched as the image was formed. The blacks and grays painted as near a perfect an anatomical picture as could be created without the use of a full CT scanner and Scott began to see what he had been praying he would not; ominous dark pools where blood was gathering deep inside his brother's abdomen and the three displaced pieces of his left femur.

Stunned by the sickening truth of the scan, Scott froze. It was a long moment before he managed to catch his breath and when he did it was interrupted by s small alarm beside him. Looking over to the bright green display that outlined Virgil's vitals, he saw the increased heart rate and the lower blood pressure reading.

In an instant Scott was simultaneously planning what next needed to be done and in what order, grabbing more supplies from the drawers, and trying not to be sick. He opened the medicine cabinet and searched out a vial of morphine; if his brother did wake up soon, Scott wanted to be sure he had some serious pain relief on board.

It was at that moment that Gordon rushed into the medical bay, his boots skidding on the smooth floor as he halted a short way from the bed. He quickly took in the unresponsive patient and then turned to Scott. "Autopilot. ETA 47 mins." He offered breathlessly. "What can I do?"

Scott hooked a thumb behind him, his voice tight in his throat as he replied. "Grab another liter of Ringer's."

Scott sliced scissors up through the sleeve of Virgil's uniform and examined the inside of his elbow, looking for a deep large vein. He was aware of Gordon moving beside him, hanging the fluid and piercing the bag to prime the line. Sliding the cannula into place, he then took the strips of tape Gordon passed to him and secured the line.

Virgil hated needles. Always had. It was a source of amusement amid his brothers that the tough looking Virgil, physically the biggest of all of them, would practically collapse in a trembling heap if there was any mention of booster vaccinations or tetanus shots. Scott stepped back a little to allow Gordon room to attach the fluids and could see sense in him the shared concern that their brother had again not flinched through the procedure.

Gordon flicked the line open wide and stepped back. "Next?"

Scott could well understand what his brother was attempting to do; stay busy, focus on tasks, be practical. Don't let yourself think about the awful truth that is the broken, unresponsive Virgil.

Grabbing a vacuum splint from one of the taller cupboards, Scott pointed to Virgil's leg. "We need to better secure this." They could not afford the chance that any of the sharp pieces of bone might catch another blood vessel.

In silence they worked together, carefully pulling off Virgil's heavy boot and sliding the splint up under his leg. Securing the straps, Scott then pressed open the valve and air hissed through the narrow chambers, hugging Virgil's leg in a firm embrace.

"Is it as bad as it looks, Scott?"

By way of a reply, Scott nodded towards the images from the scanner. He heard the groan of dismay as Gordon studied the picture. Pulling off Virgil's sock, Scott saw the mottled skin of his foot and held his breath as he concentrated on his search for a pulse. It was weak but it was there and Scott closed his eyes.

"Scott, I don't think we have the facilities for this."

Scott stood up straight. "I know." He leaned back against the cabinets behind him, his resolve starting to slip. Combing a hand through his hair, aware of Gordon watching him and unable to look up into his brother's face, Scott took a deep breath and tapped at the comm. in his sash. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five."

" _Go ahead, Scott_." Came the immediate response, " _Are you guys okay?_ "

Scott could not help but smile. Understanding and support. That was John. And Scott could feel his legs weakening a little.

"Not really, no." Gordon offered quietly.

Scott now chanced looking up and watched the emotion that crossed Gordon's face, feeling his own tears gathering. Keep it together. Just a bit longer.

In the initial minutes after the accident the pair of them had worked in a quiet harmony, years of training and experience switching them both into efficient sync with each other. And without discussion Two's co-pilot had then hurried to the helm and steered them for home, as high and as fast as he could. Scott had been ready to support his younger brother but had been glad, in a selfish kind of way, that he had not needed to. Now he could hear an understandable waiver in Gordon's voice.

" _I've been monitoring Virgil's vitals. He seems to be stable again. You're doing a great job, guys."_

After the initial call to report the accident, comm. traffic had been all but silenced. John knew the two of them were busy and needed to concentrate. But cameras in the flight deck and the medical bay would have no doubt allowed him access to keep an eye on them.

"Have you seen the scan results, John?"

" _Yeah. That fracture looks complicated."_

As calm and to the point as ever. Scott wondered whether that would perhaps be the same if John was right here with them. With the broken pieces of Virgil's suit heaped in the corner, his ominous silence and the smell of blood soaked dressings. Everything that he and Gordon were trying not to think about.

Scott's hands were dragging through his hair again and he let his fists rest at the back of his neck, feeling the tightness in his shoulders. "Where's the nearest trauma centre?"

Nearest. Safest. Most easily guarded.

" _Tripler_." John's reply was fast. Evidently he had already made this decision.

"Hawaii?" Scott confirmed, "Isn't there somewhere closer?"

" _It's a clear path from your current location. And it's relatively isolated."_

Gordon shook his head, "What about the military presence there? _"_

" _Way ahead of you._ " John stated. Of course he was.

"I guess we'll worry about all that once Virgil is safe, Gordon." Scott shrugged, hanging his head and offering another silent prayer to whichever gods might be listening.

" _I'll alert them to your arrival and Virgil's status._ "

"FAB." Gordon muttered, turning away to head back through to the flight deck.

Aware of the immense craft again banking and gaining speed, Scott moved back to the medical couch and leaned against the side. Steadying his footing and closing his eyes for a moment, he allowed himself a loud sigh and rolled his head to try and ease the pain from the tension in his neck. The quiet nagging of 'God, Dad, what would you do?' swirling in the back of his mind.

Tbc ...


	2. 2 EOS

_Usual disclaimer - I'm just borrowing these characters for a while and promise to put them back where I found them._

 _Rated for language._

* * *

Twenty-two thousand miles above the calm waters of the western edge of the vast expanse of the South Pacific and shortly after 03.15 island time, the space station sat in it's geosynchronous position in the black and waited.

A steady flow of data from a myriad of linked satellites, communication arrays, terrestrial monitoring stations and computer networks filtered into the central hub for processing. Some information was put aside to be studied at a later date and a vast amount was catalogued and then dismissed, as Thunderbird Five paused for a moment and almost seemed to hold her breath.

A sudden burst of frantic communication had ceased all other non-essential functions. Somewhere in the background, automated systems that controlled proximity sensors, positioning thrusters and life support hummed quietly. But all of her attention was now focused on the ominously quiet, unmoving form of her lone passenger.

He had reacted as was to be expected when the initial call came through, quick to co-ordinate the actions of his response team with those in the locality. His voice had been even and measured as he had given instructions to the strangers at the scene, conversing with them as if he had known them all his life; a common trait among all emergency services personnel it seemed. They had a mission, an unspoken understanding; there was someone in need of saving and this was their common language, their shared vocation.

Then there had been a flurry of gentle laughter with his response team and his professional edge had slipped just a little. This she now recognized as relief and apparently the self-depreciating humor was one method of relieving tension. The endangered parties had been located, secured and ferried to a far less perilous location. Time to stand down and return to monitoring for any future calls for aid.

Of course, he would still remain alert as he watched the colored icons that travelled across the digital representation of the slowly turning world below them. He would hang in the zero gravity of her central core, sometimes diverting part of his attention to other tasks, as he kept an eye on the return of his response team.

His body language was usually one of perpetual calm, and he had once explained to her that this was required in order for the same to be conveyed in the steady timber of his voice. She wondered if it was part of the reason he liked the lack of gravity here in the heart of her; it was essential to be relaxed, keeping movements careful and measured. But there would always be a slight rise in his shoulders when he co-ordinated a rescue, and he would absently massage the back of his neck once a mission was complete.

This morning had very quickly become very different. She had seen a similar pattern of body language on three other occasions and, yes, one of those was as a direct result of her actions. But today he was safe in the central core, there was no hull breach that she could detect, he was not pressed against the plexiglass of the gravity ring in a almost fatal spin and his response team were not heading straight into the sun.

Somewhere after the team leader's sudden transmission of ' _Shit. John. Virgil has fallen. He's fallen badly. Oh fuck. Fuck.'_ John's movements had become erratic, his breathing labored and the biocircuitry in his suit had started screaming at her that a serious malfunction was inevitable.

The ' _Oh god. Is he dead?'_ response from the other member of the response team had not helped matters and in the carefully controlled environment of her core, John had started sweating. She had lowered the temperature and increased the flow of air around him, watching in uncertainty at his unexpected reaction.

' _Gordon. I can't get to him. Fuck. There's still rocks falling. Be careful.'_

' _Is he moving? Scott. Is he moving? Shit. I'm coming down there.'_

' _Gordon. Stay back.'_

' _I'll get the spinal board. Fuck. Get him out of there, Scott.'_

John's apparent horror over the proceedings was illogical. This was what they did every day. Any number of humans would be caught in an unexpected (or not) predicament and they would respond. There was no explanation for the way John had seemed suddenly so uncoordinated and out of control.

Desperately wanting to help and having quickly completed a differential diagnosis to ascertain why his vitals would be so very out of normal range, she had recalled how he would react to others in such an emergency and she had moved one of her many cameras closer to him and turned up the volume ever so slightly on her audio. "John. Please calm down."

He had been momentarily stunned by this and had turned his focus away from the breathless expletives of his response team and had looked straight at her. It had seemed to work. Her words had apparently caused some kind of system reset. He had blinked once, twice, and then audibly taken what had seemed to be an effort of a breath.

"EOS?"

"Yes, John."

John had then closed his eyes for a second or two and turned away from her. Looking back up at the bright 3D globe before him, he had reached out towards the green icon that hovered over the Canada/North America border and the digital representation had reformed and refocused. The small cameras in the underbelly of Thunderbird Two had been switched to his control and he had angled them towards the accident scene.

The two members of his response team had already dragged the third clear of the rubble and were assessing his condition. They had continued to shout and swear as they had loaded him onto the narrow spinal board but EOS was starting to understand that apparently the rules of conduct were completely different when the rescue involved one of your own team.

John had then again made contact with them and she had been reassured by the return of a modicum of calm. He had confirmed that, yes, the patient was alive and, yes, he was breathing but, no, he was unconscious. One of the team had then remarked on some major fucking damage to a lower limb and they had then carried him back inside the patiently hovering Thunderbird Two.

She had watched John offer direction as Thunderbird Two made a wide navigation around an approaching storm and had then climbed up through the heavy, water swollen clouds. And this was where EOS had again expected John to resume to normal post mission status. But instead of idly watching the return of the response team, he had spun a slow arc away from the display and exited the central hub.

Jumping fluidly from camera to camera, she had followed him float down through the access corridor and watched him make his elegant summersault maneuver to emerge feet first into the outer ring, his momentum pulled by the gravity of the slow rotation. His feet had met the clear plexiglass of the ring and he had slowly taken a few steps before then sinking down to his knees.

This was where he had stayed and where she now patiently watched him. Wondering if this was the inevitable malfunction that his bio-readouts had foretold, she completed another rapid diagnostic and was both reassured and not. The suit monitors said he was fine. His body language suggested otherwise. And his lack of movement was becoming a concern.

"John?" EOS slid the overhead camera a little closer, watching his response in the reflexion on the plexiglass below.

"I'm okay." John replied, apparently well aware of her concern. He moved to now sit with his back against the inner hull and stretched his legs out in front of him, staring down as the ring rotation swept him over the Pacific Ocean and then back towards the stars. "I just needed to sit down."

She had no reply for this and watched him close his eyes, heard the sigh he breathed out. He then shuddered slightly and she instantly adjusted the temperature around him, pleased that she could be of some assistance again.

" _Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird Two."_

His suit's computer gave another little blip of warning that his heart rate was again elevated and he responded to the call.

" _Scott told you what happened, right?"_

Gordon, EOS recalled, the youngest member of today's response team. He sounded extremely calm now. She hoped that would help John.

" _Scott's assessing him now. It looks bad, John. Real bad."_

EOS watched John consider this for a moment. And then Gordon's previous calm collapsed with a sob.

" _I don't know how the hell this happened, John! He was right there, making a final sweep of the area. We'd already taken the hikers down to Mountain Rescue. And, I mean, we knew about the storm coming in. But. Shit. There was no indication that there might be a fucking rockslide!"_

"It's okay, Gordon. It's not your fault."

" _His leg is pretty messed up. I'm trying to get clear of this storm and high enough to hit the ramjets._ "

"Right. Last thing we need is a barrage of complaints about sonic booms and glass shattering."

EOS saw a small smile dance on John's mouth and made a note to ask him what was funny. It helped with her ongoing comprehension of what constituted humor.

" _As soon as I can, I'll put her in autopilot and get back there and help Scott. Can you take over when I do?"_

"Of course."

EOS continued to watch John while she called up flight diagnostics for him and set up air traffic pattern analysis in the central core. It was quite a feet of engineering that 400 tons of Thunderbird Two traveling at supersonic speed could be controlled from thousands of miles away. She had accepted it as fact when she had first discovered the operating systems that allowed such a task but had grown to appreciate the achievement for what it was. Some humans really were quite clever.

"I'm right here if you need me, Gordon."

" _Thanks, John."_

The waiver in Gordon's voice suggested John's offer of support had in fact made him more upset. Another paradox of human behavior.

The connection was closed and John was rubbing at apparently aching shoulders as he leaned his head back against the bulkhead behind him. She could detect the slight tremor in his body and the skin of his face had lost it's usual colour. Adding this new information to her previous data, she now saw the reaction for what it was and decided not to take another blood pressure reading. Instead she took the overall conclusion for what it was: John Tracy was afraid.

"John?"

"Yes, EOS."

"Do you no longer trust your response team?"

His frown displayed his confusion.

"The sole purpose of your organization is to offer assistance and treatment to those that need it. Your response team are doing their job. Why are you frightened?"

"Because he's my brother." John replied quietly, not denying her conclusion.

"And therefore of greater importance than any other casualty."

"No. I mean, yes. But ..."

He had told her once about the organization being a family. She had at first assumed that he had meant it in a colloquial manner. He had then explained the biological concept and the shared DNA between six of the eight residents of Tracy Island. But the notion of what that surmounted to was lost on her. There seemed to be an equal amount of affection between all of them and a similar regard for the two employees in London.

"It's hard to be up here, so far away, when my brother is hurt."

"If you are at all concerned as to the quality of the care that is being given, you can always take a look for yourself." She already had an established connection and could show him the live feed from the cameras inside Thunderbird Two.

"No, it's not that." John let his head sink forwards and groaned, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

EOS paused for a moment, noting his current pose to now be either a) frustration with her b) lack of sleep or c) the onset of a headache. Only one of the three could be directly resolved by her so the chances of her being of assistance were not great, but she decided to pursue it anyway. "The current partnership of the leader of your rescue organization with the second youngest member of the team has a combined success rate of 97.47%. Of the remaining 2.53%, nine casualties had perished prior to arrival, three had catastrophic brain injuries and - "

"EOS! Stop!" John was suddenly getting to his feet and shot her a warning glare before turning his back to her. " _So_ not appropriate right now."

She tracked his slow return to the central hub and was already waiting for him when he glided up through the access tunnel. "I'm sorry, John. I'm trying to help."

He was making a point of avoiding looking at any of the four cameras that surrounded him and he frowned as he examined the height, speed and location of the green icon before him, plus the data EOS had pulled up onto the 3D map.

"Why don't you contact them?"

John sighed, "They'll both be very busy right now."

"Yes. I have been monitoring the uplink."

"EOS, be careful!" John turned to look into the nearest camera and shook his head in warning. "Our agreement was that you stay up here on Five."

"I have not strayed beyond the parameters of that agreement, John." She saw that his concern had not been abated and remembered the heated exchange among his team that had followed his decision to not delete her. "Your team will never know that I am in communication with the interconnected operating systems of their craft."

Apparently somewhat satisfied, John turned his attention back to the map. "Fine. How is he?"

"Virgil Tracy's damaged leg has been immobilized, he is being treated for hypovolemic shock and is currently stable."

John nodded.

" _Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five. All clear, John, and cruising at 66,000 feet. Can you take us home?"_

"FAB, Gordon. Give me an update when you can."

EOS watched him take control of what was, in effect, the biggest remote control plane ever built, and studied the flight path in front of Thunderbird Two. "I can take over for you, if you like."

"No," John's sigh echoed around the central hub. "Thank you, but ... I need to be doing something."

John reached out to the interactive map and changed the scale to encompass the entire land mass and the ocean to the west until a small locator pin emerged. The Tracy Island logo blinked up at him. At current speed on this trajectory, Thunderbird Two was 47 minutes from home.

EOS edged closer. "An injury to your team of this severity has not occurred since I have been aboard Thunderbird Five. Has it happened before?"

John was quiet for a long moment. "Yes."

EOS could see the worry that was etched into John's face and she searched the Tracy Island systems, calling up medical files and scanning through the logs. Archived information from prior to the founding of International Rescue relating to a hydrofoil accident, injuries sustained during military service and a high speed automobile collision caught her interest for a moment and she noted who they pertained to. Well, they seemed to be functioning perfectly adequately now.

Since the organization had formally started, there was a catalogue of burns, cuts, sprains and fractures and she pondered on it for a moment. "You humans are very poorly designed."

"What?"

If she could have huffed in frustration, she would have. "Your internal and external hardware is of substandard quality."

"You mean we're fragile."

"Yes. I would take it up with your manufacturer, if I were you."

John suddenly laughed, "Oh, I'm not discussing theology with you again. No way."

Pleased that she had elicited such a positive response, EOS continued her search. She found records of secure calls to various senior medical and surgical personnel and numerous e-mails with details of recommended treatments for a host of minor injuries. The resident engineer was now apparently quite adept at repairing humans as well as machines.

"You should alert Professor Hackenbacker to their arrival. He will need to make the necessary preparations."

"Preparations?" John queried.

"Virgil Tracy has a complex fracture of the left femur. I have found several medical journals containing reference to new techniques for stabilizing the bone and accelerating healing. The nearest orthopedic teams who have the skill to complete the necessary repairs are in Sydney, Auckland and Honolulu and the flight times from - "

"Wo! Wait! What do you mean?" John demanded, spinning towards the nearest camera and having to quickly regain his balance. "EOS, we can't bring doctors onto the island. Not with security as tight as it is."

"But Professor Hackenbacker will require assistance." She opened up a small window in the upper corner of the display and linked up with the feed from Thunderbird Two. "Observe."

John looked at the three pieces of unaligned bone and groaned. "Oh hell ..."

"The alternative is to take Virgil Tracy to a trauma center." EOS stated, matter-of-fact. "I calculate that there are five suitable hospitals within an acceptable distance from his current location. And this will, of course, severely reduce the time delay in commencing the whole blood and platelet transfusion he will most likely require."

"What?" John turned slowly back to her.

"Virgil Tracy is leaking."

"Shit."

The sensors in John's suit were detecting another rise in heart rate and EOS moved as close to John as the line of camera track would allow. "John?"

"What?"

"Please keep calm. A decision needs to be made before Virgil Tracy is no longer within safe operating parameters."

John stared at her camera in stunned silence.

"With the treatment options currently available to repair the bone and also address the femoral and hepatic hemorrhages, there is a 76.4% chance that he will no longer be stable enough for repair within 2.26 hours and may have significant organ damage in the next 4.1."

"Oh shit." John closed his eyes and hung his head, reaching out to grasp at something, anything to steady him. "Shit shit shit."

Wondering if there was a way to provide gravity within the central core, EOS watched John in concern; he very clearly needed to sit down again. She then looked back at the options she had mapped out for him on the display and instantly made a decision.

"John."

He took a second to compose himself and then looked back up at the map.

EOS highlighted the chain of islands in the North Pacific, drawing a new trajectory for Thunderbird Two to show John the clear flight path and estimated duration. Recalling his concern for security and refocusing the display to show him a closer view of their destination, EOS highlighted the GDF craft located at the airport, the ships docked in the port and the drones that swept the skies of the Pacific.

John smiled.

Encouraged, EOS called up the contact information for the trauma center and prepared the link, sending a new icon onto the display. She watched him tap the icon and the call was made: International Rescue were transporting a patient in critical condition and required assistance - that it was one of their own team was irrelevant at that time. The response from the duty nurse was measured and professional and EOS hoped that would help John.

Running a brief statistical analysis of the probability of full recovery and researching the potential complications that could arise during and after major surgery, EOS sorted them into an ascending order of severity. Setting the information aside in case it was needed at a later date, she turned her full attention back to John.

Only the gentle whirr of the processors that lined the central core disturbed the silence and EOS waited in uncertainty. She watched as John hung unmoving before the display and closed his eyes. EOS yet again checked the readouts from his suit to ensure he still remained physically well.

"Thank you, EOS."

"You are welcome, John. I have observed how your organization works. You have a pivotal role and I am pleased to be able to assist you."

He looked up at that. Taking a moment to read through the information before him and then glancing at her, he gave her another small smile. And then he was quickly in action, opening the encrypted channel to the GDF colonel and waking the island's head of security. He contacted Professor Hackenbacker and gave him a full report before he then called over to the neighboring space station to check on his youngest brother. And then lastly he called his grandmother.

That conversation seemed to take something out of John and for a moment EOS watched his composure waiver once again. The small, white haired woman did not make any attempt at all to hide her emotion. It was not what John needed right now.

Grandma Tracy kept making references to 'Jeff' and EOS called up the file. Jeff Tracy, John's father, co-creator and former leader of International rescue, not seen or heard from since his ship had crashed in unknown circumstances. Shortly after arriving on Thunderbird Five, EOS had found the search program that was permanently active, scanning all means of communication around the world for any indication of Jeff Tracy's whereabouts. 'Missing In Action' was apparently not a satisfactory conclusion. She had only spoken to John once regarding Jeff Tracy and he had ordered that the subject of 'my dad' was never to be mentioned again. Ever.

It confused EOS that Grandma Tracy was allowed to make reference to Jeff and she wanted to ask John why that was, wanted to better understand his importance. But now was most definitely not an appropriate time to inquire and she remained quiet as she watched the interaction continue.

It was another 9 minutes before Grandma Tracy seemed to be ready to end the call and EOS watched John terminate the link. Quiet descended once more and John pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, squeezing tiny spheres of clear liquid into the air around him. He was apparently again concentrating on his breathing and EOS patiently waited for him to do so.

"Take over, EOS." John asked quietly. He then turned and again made his way out of the central core.

EOS took control of Thunderbird Two and simultaneously watched John's exit through the tunnel. She was relieved to see his movements were more determined on this occasion and when he reached the gravity ring there was no kneeling or sitting any other signs of collapse.

He made for the galley and EOS followed him. He grabbed a paper towel to wipe his face and then poured a glass of purified water. He then opened one of the narrow cupboards, reaching for a pouch of electrolyte liquid. Concerned that she may have missed something, she quickly reanalyzed the biometric data.

"Don't worry, EOS." He glanced up at her via the camera above him as he took another long mouthful. "I just like the flavor."

She focused in on the silver pouch. Strawberry. Yes, this preference had been previously observed. She then paused, surprised once again at how he had known that she was concerned at his choice of beverage. She did not, after all, have a mind to be read.

"I analyze your behavior just as much as you study mine and your silence speaks volumes." He explained.

John posted the empty pouch into the waste disposal and opened another cupboard. Going up on his toes, he reached up into the far back of the top shelf and grabbed a small gold cardboard box. Sliding the red ribbon aside, he savored the aroma from within and then picked out a cube of chocolate.

Secret stash, he had called it. He had only sought it out on a few other occasions since she had met him, eating a third of the contents after that strange Fischler fellow had visited the station. She watched as John popped a single cube of chocolate into his mouth.

Quickly taking a blood glucose reading to confirm for herself that he required a dose of refined sugar for no other reason than comfort, EOS waited. She saw the way he sagged against the cupboard and stifled a yawn. It had been 4.2 hours since he had last powered down and 17.4 since his last unbroken REM cycle. And, yes, this now explained a great deal.

His current state was neither an efficient use of time or resources and his energy reserves did not appear to be able to keep him functioning effectively for much longer. Wondering if some sort of shock or simulation might reboot his operating systems, she considered the ramifications of such for a moment.

"What the hell do I do now, EOS?"

"The same as you have done during similar situations." EOS replied, alarmed at the malfunction in his memory. "Continue to reassure the response team with simple platitudes and trust in the experience of the trauma team."

John snorted a sudden laugh. "You mean I need to pull myself together."

EOS was unsure how to respond. His physical form was quite clearly in one piece.

"You're right." John pushed away from the cupboards and headed out of the galley.

"Of course I am."

Another huff of laughter and John shook his head. "No one likes a smart-ass, EOS."

 _Tbc ..._


	3. 3 Scott

There was a small stool in the medical bay, narrow and without wheels, squeezed between the cabinets. Scott had not noticed it before but but had now grabbed it and sat himself down beside Virgil. The adrenaline of triage and emergency action was slowly ebbing and leaving him so very tired that he was grateful for what little comfort the stool offered as he sat beside the bed. With the initial care given, all that was left to do was keep watch and silently urge Thunderbird Two to - please god - go faster.

He knew she was at top speed but that was still slower than his usual race across the globe and deep within her in the medical bay there were no windows to let him judge cloud movement. He had not spent that much time in this, the biggest of the fleet, and she sounded different to his 'bird, the vibrations under his feet hummed an unknown tune and the higher pitch of her engines was not as familiar. And of course there was the added frustration that Scott had never been a good passenger.

But Thunderbird One was sat silent in the hangar on Tracy Island, receiving overdue maintenance and hopefully enjoying a well-earned rest. He had pushed her hard over the past few days. He had pushed his brothers even harder.

That was why, when the call had come in from Mountain Rescue, he had argued that they should leave this one to the local authorities. But John had explained that their emergency vehicles were out of commission and a storm was approaching. Scott had conceded but had seen the weariness in Virgil's eyes and the uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm in Gordon's response. Thinking that the rescue would be quicker if the three of them went along, and wanting to keep an eye on his brothers, he had followed after them.

They had caught a second - or was it third or forth? - wind as they had left the island, no doubt helped by the Coke that Gordon had thought to grab on his way to the hangar. The outward journey had been full of animated chatter and lighthearted, if repeated, reminders to Gordon to please not spill any soda on the instruments. But then they had arrived on scene and Virgil's observation that it would be 'a quick fetch and carry' had apparently angered the universe in some way.

Virgil now needed a trauma team, surgery and more than likely a blood transfusion. Wondering if perhaps adding a supply of blood to the already considerable inventory of Two's medical bay might be an idea, Scott filed the thought under the ever growing list of 'things to discuss later' and closed his eyes.

"Sc't ...?" The small sound was lost under the oxygen mask and Scott did not notice his brother starting to stir until Virgil's hand swung upwards and thumped against his shoulder.

"Virgil?" Scott gasped in delight, on his feet in an instant and sending the stool scuttling across the floor. Grabbing hold of Virgil's hand, he watched his brother's eyes flutter open for a brief moment. "Easy. It's okay."

Virgil's grip was strong and Scott wrapped both his hands around Virgil's fingers, unable to stop grinning in relief as he tapped the comm. open to alert his brothers to the good news. A duo of cheers was broadcast into the room and Scott watched Virgil give a small smile. He then saw the concern that quickly replaced it and he closed the connection. "What? What is it, Virgil?"

"Hi -." Virgil husked, his free hand reaching for the oxygen mask over his face, glancing quickly up at Scott. "Hikers?"

"Safe." Scott confirmed, smiling fondly as he replaced the mask; of course his brother's first concern would be for those they had been sent to rescue. Before all hell had broken loose. Literally. "We handed them off to Mountain Rescue." Scott continued. "Remember?"

"No." Virgil frowned. "Numb."

"Yeah ... that's probably a good thing right about now." Scott gave Virgil's hand another firm squeeze. "You just lay back and enjoy the ride, huh?"

A small nod, as much as the collar would allow, and Virgil frowned again. "Gordon?"

"Up front. Driving the bus." Scott heard the small groan of annoyance at the nickname and his smile grew. "Don't worry. Your baby's in good hands."

"Sticky hands."

Scott's laugh came easily, "No, I confiscated the rest of the Coke. We need him alert but not wired."

Scott was certain he would never be rid of the image of Virgil falling amid the rock slide but he could at least push it to the back of his mind as he watched the oxygen mask move with Virgil's smile. The past twenty-eight minutes of watching over his unresponsive brother had been unbearable, each minute suggesting that there was something far more wrong with Virgil than the injuries they had already discovered.

"Feel sick."

"Morphine." Scott explained. And no doubt a concussion, among other things.

Virgil considered this for a moment, "Bad?"

"Yeah. Pretty bad." It was a serious understatement but Scott thought something of an understanding seemed to pass between them.

"Was Two." Virgil offered, taking slow breaths as he fought back the growing nausea. "Too close ... to mountain." He continued, wincing a little.

"Yeah, John said the same thing." Scott agreed; that brief discussion of what might have caused the accident had kept his mind occupied for a few minutes while he chatted with John and tried not to lose it over how long Virgil had been unconscious. The sound waves from the VTOL thrusters must have loosened the scree, John had proposed. But hows and whys could take a back seat for now.

There had also been a short, ridiculous debate between John and Gordon concerning the feasibility of putting air bags in their suits. They had then reminisced over some of the early, bulky prototype flight suits that Brains had developed and Scott had been glad to hear his brothers laughing, albeit half heartedly, before Gordon had then resumed his quiet concentration on their final approach to Hawaii.

Virgil adjusted his prone position on the bed a little, trying to ease the ache in his shoulders and instantly regretted even this small movement. "Ow. Oh man ... "

Scott saw the shudder that ran through his brother and he groaned in sympathy. He placed a hand on Virgil's forehead, feeling the clamminess of his skin as he gently stroked his fingers up into Virgil's hair. "Try and keep still. Okay?"

"Copy that."

His brother seemed to be relaxing as Scott continued drawing gentle lines up over Virgil's forehead. The question of whether or not to tell him of their destination hovered on his lips and Scott could feel tension making a quick return.

"Hey. Listen, Virgil." Scott began warily, trying to recall how he had planned his words. "You really have banged yourself up pretty bad." He saw the questions in Virgil's eyes and gave him a small smile. "We're taking you to get checked out at a hospital."

"Hospital?" Virgil queried. Sudden dread replaced the medicated calm and he shook his head in confusion as he searched Scott's face, his eyes now much more alert and focused. "Wait-? Why?"

Virgil had thus far not asked for any details of his injuries and Scott was loath to offer any. He assumed that Virgil was aware of the damage, experienced enough to ascertain the situation for himself. The spinal board, the collar, the braces and splints that were holding him together; Scott had been fairly sure that Virgil could guess just how bad 'bad' was. What he had overlooked was that underneath the knowledge and experience of a fellow first responder was a brother who was just as scared as any other patient. And the news that they were not headed home had now filled Virgil with terror.

The sedation of the morphine and the effects of shock that had been keeping Virgil composed suddenly vanished, leaving panic and confusion in their wake. In an instant he was trying to sit up, had moved his legs and the underlying pain of broken bones and shredded nerve endings was increased a thousand fold.

Scott was quick to action, pressing Virgil's shoulders back down onto the bed and carefully guarding his splinted leg as he ordered him to lie still. His efforts were futile and Virgil continued to struggle against his restraints, crying out in agony. The cardiac monitor started shrieking in alarm as Virgil's pulse rate soared and Scott's ears were soon ringing with the noise.

Nothing Scott said or did could calm Virgil, his brother's sudden initial movement having started an endless cycle of reactive tremors and jerks that only caused more and more pain. In his panic, Virgil was now struggling to breathe and soon Scott could stand it no longer. Despite his better judgement, he tore apart the velcro straps that pinned his brother's chest to the spinal board and grabbed him by the shoulders. In an instant Virgil was sitting almost upright and taking deep, gulping breaths.

"Easy ..." Scott murmured, pressing himself against the edge of the bed to prevent his brother falling, one arm around Virgil's trembling shoulders. "Calm down. Please, calm down."

The panic soon faded, Virgil's breathing and pulse rate evening out. It was over as quickly as it had begun and Scott took a tentative step back to assess his brother. Virgil had his arms stretched out behind him, just about holding himself up. His previously pale face was now flushed and wet with sweat. And all of his attention was on his splinted left leg.

"Shit ..."

Scott stepped in close again, gently pulling Virgil towards him. Virgil was solid muscle and heavy. Always had been. Scott squared his footing and braced himself as Virgil fell against him.

"Shit." Virgil repeated, the neck collar allowing just enough movement for him to rest his head against's Scott's shoulder. He stared at the mess of pressure bandages and blood and groaned. "That really fucking hurts."

"I'm sure it does." Scott offered in sympathy.

"That's - ow - good ... I guess."

"Yeah." Scott pulled him closer.

"So ..." Virgil continued, quiet and unsure, his breath catching in his throat. "What's the damage?"

Scott's heart was thumping loudly in his ears and his throat felt tight. "I'm so sorry Virgil." Quick, like ripping off a band-aid, he thought to himself. "Your femur is shattered."

The news seemed to take a second or two to sink in and Virgil continued to quietly stare at his leg. "Fuck."

"I'm pretty sure that's all that's broken." Scott offered quietly, feeling and hearing his brother give a wince in response. "Apart from a few ribs." And there was, of course, the internal bleeding from somewhere but maybe his brother didn't need to know about that right now. He was pretty sure he wouldn't want to, if the situation were reversed. Scott closed his eyes at the thought and acknowledged quietly to himself that, yeah, he'd be glad to change places with him right now.

"Sc't?" Virgil swallowed thickly. "Dizzy."

Virgil was no longer holding himself upright, sagging into Scott's chest. Quickly adjusting his grip of his brother's shoulders and sighing an apology as he did so, Scott helped him lay back down on the bed.

Lying prone once again, Virgil allowed the oxygen mask to be slipped back into place. His breath fogged up the plastic and he closed his eyes as his brother started fussing around him, untangling IV lines and assessing the placement of the splint and pressure bandages.

"Stop."

Pain was evident in Virgil's tight face and Scott did as asked. He then made a quick mental calculation before grabbing another morphine from the cabinet. After pushing the dose into the IV line, Scott took Virgil's hand and winced as his brother squeezed his fingers hard.

Scott was then aware of Thunderbird Two slowing and could feel the gradual drop in altitude. Movement across the room caught his attention and he watched Gordon's wary entrance through the door. His brother's full focus was on Virgil as he edged closer, his steps sending empty packets and spent containers spinning across the floor. He cast a trained eye over the monitor readouts, his concern obvious as he glanced at Scott.

"What's our ETA?"

"Two minutes." Gordon replied quietly, "Just waiting for clearance." His voice still held some of his earlier trepidation, clearly unsettled by the fact that they were making an unscheduled visit to a military installation.

"Gord'? Virgil gasped, trying to turn and see their brother as he approached.

Scott peeled his hand out of Virgil's grasp and stepped aside so Gordon could move into his place.

"Gord'?" Virgil repeated, a little less urgent. "You okay?"

Gordon's quick laugh caught in his throat. "Am I okay? Seriously? I'm not the one that decided to surf a landslide!"

Virgil huffed what might have been amusement and his eyes closed.

"I'm fine." Gordon confirmed. "Nothing new underwear won't fix." His smile didn't quite make it to his eyes and then quickly faded. "You just focus on you. Okay?"

Virgil made no reply and Scott saw the fear that flashed across Gordon's face. Stepping closer to him, he placed a hand on Gordon's arm and watched the small, if unconvincing, nod of thanks that was offered in return.

Scott took down the fluid bag that had emptied and twisted the plastic into a tight ball. He then looked around at the mess he had made of the small medical bay and stooped down to start collecting the torn paper and plastic from the floor. He had never been the tidiest of workers and was glad Virgil was not awake enough to see the state of the place. He then smiled as he realised he did not actually remember where the waste bags were kept and it was an oddly welcome distraction as he hunted through the cupboards.

"Virg'?"

Scott had found the roll of bags but now dropped them as he heard the alarm in Gordon's voice. He was back at the bed in two quick strides and making a rapid assessment of Virgil. There was still a notable pallor to his skin but the lines of pain were fading from his face and Scott could see he was starting to relax again.

"Virgil?" Gordon urged, giving his brother's shoulder a gentle nudge.

"He's okay." Scott offered, glancing at the cardiac monitor just to be sure. He turned to Gordon and saw the way he sank back a little. And for the first time he registered the mess his brother was in; blood and dirt was smeared on Gordon's uniform, his blond hair scruffy and matted with sweat. Sure he must not look much better himself, Scott sighed and placed a hand on Gordon's back . "Hey, Gordon ... you did good - "

"No!" Gordon shook his head, shrinking back from him, his eyes only flicking briefly to look up at Scott before refocusing on Virgil. "Don't, Scott. Not now."

"Right," Scott raised his hands in apology. He had momentarily forgotten that Gordon did not respond well to comfort during times of stress, not while he was trying to hold himself together. And Scott could clearly see the emotions that were only just being held at bay. As much as he wanted to gather Gordon into him, he needed him to be focused and didn't dare make him crumble, so he moved away and continued to tidy.

" _Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two._ "

"Hi, John." Gordon responded, "How's it going?"

" _You have clearance to approach Honolulu. There_ _'_ _s a steady crosswind and light rain that might make winching down to the helipad tricky so_ _I_ _'_ _ve got you permission to land on the east side of the hospital, across from the ER."_

"FAB."

" _Kayo is en route to oversee security. It_ _'_ _s pre-dawn and overcast so that will help to conceal your arrival a little. Once you_ _'_ _ve offloaded_ _Virgil, I_ _'_ _ll take Two back up above cloud cover."_

Scott saw the relief on Gordon's face and tapped into the conversation. "Thanks, John."

" _Alan_ _'_ _s finished at WSS and will head over to Five. I haven_ _'_ _t told him what_ _'_ _s happened yet - he needs to focus - but I_ _'_ _m keeping Brains and Grandma updated._ _"_ An uncharacteristic pause and John sighed, " _God, I wish I was there with you_."

"No offense, John, but I'm glad you're not." Scott countered, "It's good to know you're in control of things."

" _Right._ _I_ _'_ _m doing my best._ "

The link closed and relative quiet descended around them. Scott turned to Gordon and took a deep breath. "Well? You good? Or shall I take us down."

"No." Gordon stepped back from the bed and gently tucked Virgil's hand under the safety of one of the spinal board straps. "I'll do it."

Landing the immense bulk of Thunderbird Two was a manoeuvre that Scott was sure Virgil could do in his sleep, and probably had done once or twice. The sequence was pre-planned and tight with safety protocols that the on-board computer regulated and, if need be, could be achieved on auto-pilot. But never the less, on this occasion Gordon was at the helm and Scott sat quietly beside him watching sensors and cameras as they descended.

Beads of sweat were dribbling down the sides of Gordon's face as he guided the immense craft between trees and lamplights at the side of the hospital. The approach was perfect and the proximity alarms remained silent as he set her down smoothly. As Two's landing struts met soft grass, Scott reached over and clapped a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Nicely done, bro."

Gordon nodded, still clutching the yoke in a white knuckle grip.

"Breathe." Scott offered quietly.

Gordon snorted and suddenly grinned at him. "Says the land lover to the free diver."

Scott quirked an eyebrow in surprised amusement. "Alright, fish-boy!" He muttered, standing and heading aft, leaving Gordon to flick at the switches around him that initiated the engine shut down.

The humor was welcome but short-lived, Gordon sobering the moment he arrived in the medical bay. He helped Scott lift the spinal board and Virgil hissed in protest. Moving Virgil was not easy and as they weaved through doors and amid the equipment in the cargo bay of Pod 2, they rocked him against the straps that held him still. They set Virgil down beside the pod door and he was squirming in agitation as Scott knelt down beside him. Scott pressed Virgil's shoulders back against the spinal board and was pleased as, this time, Virgil obeyed and became still.

Gordon had activated the separation sequence and Scott heard the droning of the pistons that lifted the outer shell of Thunderbird Two up from the central pod. He then watched as his brother waited by the far side of the pod door, ready to lower the ramp.

"Ow ..."

The protest was quiet and pitiful and so very unlike Virgil. Scott swallowed back the lump is his throat and gave his brother's hand a reassuring squeeze. The whirr of motors and the blinking of an amber warning light then signaled the door opening above them and a warm wisp of Hawaiian air entered the pod.

Scott watched Gordon hurry over to kneel on the other side of Virgil. Their brother was grumbling softly and Gordon was quickly leaning over him, smiling as Virgil briefly opened his eyes to look up at him. "Hey. Almost over." Gordon placed his hand over Virgil's and winced as his brother quickly grabbed at his wrist. "I know. I know. Not long and they're gonna pump you full of all kinds of good shit."

Scott saw Gordon glance up at him and the uncertainty in his eyes, the shared concern that they would very soon be handing their brother over to strangers.

Virgil huffed a response and his frown deepened. "Gord?"

"I'm here."

"Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Scott sniffed back a sob and was not surprised as Gordon thumped a fist into his arm. The warning in Gordon's expression was clear. Don't you dare lose it, big brother. Not yet.

As the ramp lowered, light rain spattered around them and the voices of the waiting trauma team could be heard. Scott slid his hand free of Virgil's and stood to greet the team who were hurrying towards them through the rain. The apparent team leader held out her hand and Scott shook it briefly, handing off details of accident, injury and treatment to her.

Between them they lifted Virgil down the ramp and onto a gurney and he hissed at every movement but his complaints were drowned out by the hurried conversation around them and he was wheeled quickly towards the ER entrance.

Gordon and Scott jogged beside each other as they followed after the team. They turned left inside the entrance and somewhere at the end of the short corridor that led alongside the ER, the team leader suddenly halted and them both. Her smile conveyed a promise that she did not say aloud. What she did say was that they could follow no further.

The two heavy doors swung closed, large red letters warning of no entry, and the brightly lit corridor was suddenly empty except for the two brothers who stood in stunned silence for a while.

"Scott?" Gordon's quiet voice echoed around them.

Scott pulled his gaze from the doors and his breath hitched in his throat as he saw the tears that were freely running down Gordon's face. He quickly closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around his brother as the first sobs came.

 _Tbc ..._

* * *

 _This is set in the TAG world but using the design specifics for TOS TB2 ... still, I'm sure there must be a medical bay in the Weta version. Next to the showers ..._


	4. 4 Gordon

The small office was neutrally decorated and a vast array of framed photographs lined the walls. Vying for space amidst flags and scarves from various platoons and sporting teams, the faces of family members and combat groups smiled out from behind dusty glass. Then there were the images of fighter planes from the past century or more and art prints full of recruitment slogans of the first and second world war.

The large mahogany desk filled most of the space and was covered with neat piles of various journals and textbooks, their faded edges curled. More books lined a wide bookcase that took up the length of one wall, leaving barely enough room for the metal filing cabinets and mini-fridge that had somehow been slotted into the room.

It was full but also tidy, spoke of a life well travelled and had the air of an office somehow out of it's time, almost a museum. The modern computer with it's clean edges and shiny surfaces seemed out of place, an afterthought in the centre of the desk. It spoke a great deal of the character of it's owner and, though he had vacated the room hours before, his cologne lingered and the room still seemed to hum with his deep, excitable baritone.

Benjamin Fletcher was a tall man in his mid-fifties, grey haired with bright eyes and an obvious military bearing. A captain in the medical corps, he was also chief of surgery at Tripler Hospital and when the call had come in from Colonel Casey he had evidently kissed his half awake wife and hurried to his car. It seemed there was some history between the captain and the colonel and Fletcher had never been one to refuse a favor.

The interest and excitement that had been generated by the arrival of International Rescue had caused most of the hospital night shift to gather at the windows and watch through the rain as the immense green craft landed briefly on the east lawn. Captain Fletcher had slipped past all of the attention to seek out the two operatives who had been left alone in the corridor outside of the ER.

He had quickly ushered them into the stairwell of the fire escape, up to the third floor and along quieter corridors to his office in the the surgical wing. He had made brief introductions to the facilities, changed out of his suit and tie and then hurried off to oversee the treatment of their fellow operative. Gordon and Scott had managed to thank him before sinking into a stunned silence in the small office.

Sometime afterwards, Kayo had joined them. She had quickly relayed her conversations with the hospital security and the chief of staff. Usual security measures for a military installation were already in place but would be tightened accordingly and she seemed to be satisfied with this, for now. There was a staff only exclusion zone around the operating rooms and those on duty had been vetted. Short of shutting down the entire hospital, she had done as much as she could.

And so they had waited. In a room that seemed strangely familiar, surrounded by the comforts of military heritage. At least, it should have been comforting. The room harkened to similar offices of family and friends that they had known all their lives but it was also a stark reminder of the office on the island, an office that had been empty for so long now. With that came the grief of loss that was an unwelcome addition to the trauma of what had started out as a fairly uneventful Thursday.

Gordon was sat on the small plump couch opposite the desk, his elbows resting on his knees and his head hung low. Aware of his brother deep in conversation across the room, but not conscious of every word, Gordon stared at the smooth linoleum under his feet and concentrated on slow breaths. Counting four in and five out, as he had been for the past however long, the swirling knots in his stomach were finally ebbing away.

Scott was talking to John. Gordon had listened at first to updates regarding the rest of the family and the plans going forwards. He had then heard the waiver in John's voice and it was obvious that Scott had too. Scott had pushed and John had begrudgingly admitted that he was not coping with what had happened. When John had opened up about his panic attack and how EOS had all but talked him down from the proverbial ledge, Gordon had almost fled from the room for the third time.

The first time he had shot through the door was only just after they had arrived in the office. Scott had followed him, caught up with him and quickly understood. He had guided Gordon to the bathroom a short way along the corridor and then held back inside the door as Gordon had launched into a stall and heaved up what remained of his breakfast. Gordon had then sank down to sit against the thin metal wall of the stall and coughed out all the tears that had been stored up over the past few hours. The brief meltdown in the ER having been interrupted by the exuberant - but very well meant - greeting of Captain Fletcher.

Scott had let Gordon cry himself out, only disturbing him enough to ease by and flush the toilet. When he had eventually calmed, Gordon had hiccuped an apology and been met with quiet empathy and a wet paper towel to wipe his face. He had glimpsed fresh tear tracks on his brother's equally tired face and had then pulled himself together. That had lasted until Scott had put a call through to the island and their grandmother had answered. Hearing her cry was the worst sound in the world, second only to the distant memory of their mother, and Gordon had stumbled from the room, guilt heavy on his shoulders as he left his brother to try and soothe her.

There had been little left in his stomach and he had dry heaved until his throat was sore. And then, unsanitary surroundings be damned, he had sat on the floor underneath the bank of wash basins and let himself sink into an exhausted calm. It was Kayo that had sought him out that time. Blatantly ignoring the fact that it was the men's room, she had hurried inside. Apparently very pleased that he had not passed out, and with equal disregard for what germs might be lurking on the floor, she had knelt beside him. After a quick check of his pulse and worriedly peering at his pupils, she had then sat back on her heels and waited for him to be ready to move.

Kayo was now perched beside him on the couch, angled to face him and one knee resting against his thigh. She had unzipped the back of his suit and was holding a handful of ice cubes wrapped in napkins against the nape of his neck. The melting ice was dripping down his back and tickling around his neck but it was soothing. What he really needed was to get out of the cloying heat of his uniform but he had not yet found the strength to bother with it, although Kayo had helped him at least remove the sash and O2 tank.

The gentle nudge of her hand against his arm and he glanced at the water she held out to him. She had said he was dehydrated, which was unsurprising after interrupted sleep for the past few days and only grabbing food and drink when they could. Not to mention the added stress today had flung at them. Gordon took small sips and then passed the glass back to her; his hands were still trembling and she had already mopped up one spillage from the floor. Sitting back a little and wincing at the ache in his lower back and his shoulders, Gordon shot her a grateful smile.

Kayo grabbed one of the plush cushions from the corner of the sofa and placed it behind him, pressing a hand into his chest to encourage him to lie back. He slowly obeyed and rested back against the soft couch. As he did so, pain lanced up the backs of his legs and he slid his feet out to stretch out his knees. Ending up in something of an ungainly sprawl that was surprisingly comfortable, at least for a moment, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

"Is he ok?"

Gordon heard Scott's query and could feel Kayo nodding in reply. He then heard John chiming in with his own concern and was grateful as Scott was quick to reassure him. 22,000 miles away and already dealing with his own meltdown, plus an over-zealous Alan, John did not need anything more to worry about.

Alan had docked with Five shortly after Gordon had guided Two down onto the hospital grounds. After an exciting tour of the World Wide Space Station, delivering supplies and helping them install some of Brains' new software, Alan had been giddy with enthusiasm. They had all expected him to plummet into despair when he heard about the accident but it seemed the youngest of them was also the moist stoical. He had questions, lots of questions, but he had taken the news far better than the rest of them had.

It had not taken much convincing from Alan for John to hand over the running of Five for a while. Alan was more than capable and was no doubt in his element - and sure to inform Gordon of every awesome moment at the earliest opportunity. Having already put in a great deal of time studying the running of the station and with his shared fascination of anything to do with space and computers, Alan reveled in spending time with John. He looked up to Scott as their leader and eldest brother, as they all did, but Gordon knew Alan hero worshipped John.

Gordon was unsure if John was aware of what Alan thought of him and resolved to tell him one day. He would have to find the right time and word it in a way that did not sound like he was teasing or messing with him. That was the problem with being dubbed the family clown, most things he said were not taken seriously. It was not something that ever bothered him, he enjoyed being entertaining, and their exasperation with him would roll off his shoulders, but there were those times when he had to convince them that he was sincere.

This was why Kayo was so concerned about him now, and the reason for the glances he knew Scott kept shooting his way, but he was too tired to do anything more than slump on the couch. They were all tired - except apparently Alan. Wondering if all of this would be so much easier to cope with if they had been well rested, and then deciding that perhaps none of this would in fact have even have happened if they were, Gordon groaned.

" _Are_ you okay?" Kayo urged in a whisper, apparently needing to confirm her earlier verdict.

Gordon turned his head to face her and saw her pale eyes watching him in concern. He took a deep breath and managed a smile. "That would be sort of a yes and a resounding no." He replied, his voice dry.

Kayo's face relaxed a little. "So, all things considered, kind of shitty."

"Yup. With a whole pile of 'what the fuck' added on for good measure." Gordon adjusted his position on the couch, arching his back a little and trying to ease out a familiar twinge. "Pretty much the worst day since the last worst day." He slid one hand under his lower back and massaged his fist into the knotted muscle there.

"Maybe you should stretch out on the floor."

Gordon could see the understanding that crossed her face and he paused for a moment. "Do you know the hardest part about all of this?" He asked quietly, "It's not the accident or the injury or even the surgery ..." He swallowed against the tightness that had returned to his throat. "I mean, the hour that he was awake and suffering was fucking horrendous but that memory eventually fades. And right now Virgil's oblivious to all this, off somewhere in anesthetic land. It's what comes afterwards that really sucks."

"I know." Kayo met his glance and shrugged, "Well, I don't _know_ know, but ... I can imagine."

"You've seen me on my bad days." Gordon slid his hand back out from under him and pressed it into the couch to sit himself up. "I hope he doesn't have to go through that."

Kayo placed a hand on his shoulder and offered him a small smile. "At least he's got you if he does."

"All of us." Gordon agreed. He noticed Scott dragging his hands through his hair and trying to stifle a yawn. The small blue hologram of John was still hovering above the comm. device amid the papers on the desk, his voice low in a conspiratorial whisper; he was in his quarters and supposed to be resting.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" Kayo offered.

There was a plate of half-eaten sandwiches on the corner of the desk and the remains of a batch of blueberry muffins that she had sourced from the hospital canteen. Gordon shook his head but patted her knee gently to offer his thanks. She nodded and relaxed away from him a little.

"It's my fault, y'know."

Kayo was watching him in uncertainty, edging back closer to hear his hushed voice.

"Virgil was out there because of me." Gordon closed his eyes, fresh tears threatening to tumble. "I was at the helm, Kayo. I took Two too close to the mountain."

"Hey." Kayo stopped him with a firm grip of his thigh and a gentle shove. "Don't do this. Sometimes these things just happen and we never know why."

Gordon sniffed and glanced up at her.

"Blaming yourself will not help anyone, least of all you." Kayo smiled suddenly and gave his leg another squeeze. "Come on. Where's that annoying little brother who winds us all up and never stops laughing? Hmm? We could use him, right about now."

"Annoying?" Gordon watched her face broaden as her smile grew.

"Infuriating."

Sighing a short chuckle, Gordon looked away from her to glance over at his brother and was glad to see Scott appeared to still be paying no attention to them. He was then aware of Kayo leaning back in close to him and he watched her smile start to fade.

"But we love you just the same."

"Of course you do." Gordon shrugged, "I'm adorable."

"I wouldn't go that far."

Gordon sniggered. He then heard John start to end the long conversation, telling Scott that he was going to do as he was told and take the opportunity to try and get some sleep. John said he calculated that it would be a few hours before they would hear anything further and admitted, somewhat ruefully, that he had been following the procedure.

Sitting upright, and what was left of the ice dropping down behind him, Gordon watched Scott close the connection and turn to him. "How come John knows more than us, and we're _here_? _"_

"Cameras." Scott answered.

Gordon scowled back at him. "Do I even want to know?"

Scott got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head with a loud moan. He had slipped off the upper part of his suit and it hung around his waist, the polymer undershirt clinging to him. Letting his arms fall back down, he pulled at the thin navy fabric and grimaced. "I could use a shower."

"Captain Fletcher did say you could use the staff facilities." Kayo agreed, "It wouldn't be a bad idea."

Scott gave a short laugh. "Are you saying I smell?"

"Like turned milk."

"Nice!"

Gordon looked between the two of them and frowned in annoyance. "What cameras?"

Scott sighed, "There are cameras in the OR. You know, for teaching purposes. John said he had a look."

Gordon's frown deepened.

"What? If it helps him, it helps him." Scott shrugged. He drained what was left of his coffee and threw the paper cup into the trash as he stepped out from behind the desk. "Did you want to have a peek?"

"Fuck, no." Gordon shot back quickly, grimacing. The mere notion of surgery set his teeth on edge, a fact that was an endless source of amusement for their youngest brother.

Scott now stood in front of him, in the space between the edge of the desk and the couch. Gordon peered up at him and saw something in his eyes that he could not quite place.

"You _really_ okay?"

"Oh god, enough already!" Gordon felt a smile return to his mouth. "Don't start the _I_ _'_ _m your oldest brother and I know just what you_ _'_ _re thinking_ shit." He lifted a foot to kick out at Scott's legs, his breath hitching as the action caught a nerve in his lower back.

"You do know that I know, though. Right?"

The sincerity in his brother's words made Gordon feel guilty for brushing his concern aside like he usually did. But if there was ever a day for bravado, surely this was it. And the _'_ _K_ _eep_ _Calm and D_ _rink_ _T_ _ea_ _'_ poster that hung behind Scott seemed to agree.

Tea. Tea equalled Penny. And Penny equalled gentle and elegant all sorts of lovely delicate things that made his heart beat a little faster. Things that were the very opposite of the gruesome brutality of today. Gordon flagged back into the couch and was was lost for a moment in the heady combination of satin against skin, rose pink lipstick and subtle Floris perfume. His brother then gave him a nudge with his foot, the bubble of the memory burst and Gordon grunted in disappointment.

"Maybe you should try and sleep." Scott suggested. "Take the floor. Like Kayo said."

Gordon studied Scott for a moment; so big brother had been listening. Of course he had.

Looking down at the scuffed linoleum, Gordon shrugged an acceptance; he'd slept in worse places. And he had to admit that the idea of being horizontal, if only for a short while, was appealing. He slid down from the couch and pushed his brother out of the way. Grabbing a cushion, Gordon rolled out onto his stomach and thumped the soft square into a comfortable position under his head.

"Right." Scott sighed, "Be back in a bit."

A waft of air washed over Gordon as the door to the office was opened and he heard Scott leave the room. He then felt movement beside him and opened his eyes to see Kayo carefully climbing over his legs and also walking into the corridor. Now the office was quiet, it wasn't long before he felt his shoulders relax and he sank further into the floor.

* * *

Gordon had no idea how much time had passed before the office door was opened again but he had apparently stretched out a little further and the corner of the door caught the side of his foot. He opened his eyes and quickly pushed himself up onto his elbows, pulling his feet out of the way of his visitor.

"Good god, son! What're you doin' on the floor?"

Gordon craned his head round and blinked wearily as he watched Captain Fletcher frowning down at him from the doorway.

"Y'alright?"

"Um ..." Gordon rolled onto his side, his back protesting as he did so. He wiped his face and bit back on a yawn. "Hello, sir."

Captain Fletcher seemed a little out of breath as he paused there, his hands on his hips. The blue cotton of his surgical scrubs was damp in a v-shape over his chest and his tanned face was flushed. Gordon added the details together and was suddenly scrambling to his feet. Grabbing the arm of the couch for leverage, he stood on shaking legs and tried to quash the fear that had erupted within him.

"Wo! It's alright, son." Fletcher urged, stepping quickly into the room and reaching out to help steady him.

Gordon took a breath and found his balance.

"Don't you worry, son. Everythin's goin' well in there, so far. I just came to get my phone." Fletcher seemed to be satisfied that Gordon was not going to topple over and stepped away from him. Rifling through the pockets of the jacket that hung on the back of the door, he found said phone and sighed in relief. "Seems folks have been tryin' to get hold of me." Fletcher glanced at the screen and then turned back to Gordon.

"So far?" Gordon clarified.

"First part of the operation's over. Took a while to locate all the bleeds. Just a matter of piecin' that leg back together now."

"Right." Gordon shuddered at the thought. He sank down onto the arm of the couch, his heart still racing with the shock and disorientation of being woken so abruptly. And where the hell was Scott? As if on cue, Gordon then heard a familiar voice somewhere along the corridor and his brother soon appeared.

Scott was quick to greet the captain with equal amounts of politeness and panic. He gave Gordon a quick once over with his eyes and then turned his full attention to Fletcher, practically demanding to know what was happening. Gordon closed his eyes as surgical terminology swam in the air around him and his body started to hurt in sympathy.

"I should head back in there." Fletcher said after a moment, "Casey will have my hide if I don't hover around the team like some kinda dark threat." He chuckled slightly and shook Scott's hand. "Rest assured, your man has one of the best teams that there is."

Gordon looked back over at them and watched his brother nodding their thanks.

Fletcher smiled and stepped from the room. "Oh, wait." He grabbed a large plastic bag that he had left just outside the room and handed it to Scott. "This is everythin' your guy had on him."

Gordon felt a shiver run through him and waited for the captain to leave. "Everything your guy had on him?"

Scott nodded, dropping the bag in the corner of the office. "Virgil's suit and stuff. Kayo made it clear that all his equipment was classified and to be returned."

"Oh. Right. I guess so. But his suit is ruined. And his communicator got smashed." Gordon looked away from Scott and hung his head.

"Hey …" Scott crossed the small distance in one long stride and wrapped his arms around his brother.

And Gordon let him. He pressed his face into Scott's shirt and slipped an arm around his waist. His brother smelled of a soap that he did not recognize and the hug was a little awkward with Gordon sat down and Scott stooped over him but it was still of more comfort than he would ever admit.

"Wait." Gordon pushed Scott away from him and it now registered that Scott was dressed in his own clothes. Just how long had he been asleep? "When did you get your stuff?"

"Kayo brought it with her. She crammed as much as she could into Thunderbird Shadow."

Gordon suddenly smiled at the memory of himself and Alan doing the very same thing once. Kayo had cursed and yelled, dragging out all kinds of housewares and random equipment as the two of them had hid in a corner of the hangar and giggled. They had waited for her to empty the jet and watched her march off towards the house to find them before they had then of course piled it all back in.

"She packed some bits for you too." Scott stooped down beside the desk and picked up the rucksack that Gordon had somehow not noticed. He placed it on the sofa and saw the hesitation on Gordon's face. "Yeah," Scott sighed, "I haven't looked to see which of your questionable shirts she grabbed."

"Or what else she might have put in there." Gordon shuddered theatrically, peering down at the bag and moving away from it a little.

"I don't think today is the day for games like that."

Gordon looked up and met his brother's stern face. He nodded in agreement but part of him hoped that she had in fact found something, anything to lighten his mood and lift the weight a little. "Where is she, anyway?"

"In the security office. Where else." Scott chuckled in reply, "She's chatting to the guards and has hacked into their system to rig up some intricate web highly illegal scans and sensor sweeps." He stepped past Gordon and slid back behind the desk, fishing his comm. device out of his jeans pocket and placing it on the desk as he sat down. "I'll call home with the update on Virgil." Scott nodded towards the door. "The showers are third on the left. They're surprisingly good, too."

"Right." Gordon yawned and got to his feet, grabbing the rucksack as he headed out the door.

The small bag contained faded jeans, one of his quieter shirts and some underwear. Gordon was not sure what he thought about Kayo going through his drawers and told himself that Grandma must have done that, not that this was much more of an improvement. At the bottom of the bag was a pair of scruffy Converse shoes and one of them rattled as he picked them up. He shook the small silver phone out from the toe of the shoe and his heart did a little backflip.

Gordon stared down at the phone for a moment, remembering when it had first been slipped into his hand and the delicate smile that had followed. The rather innocuous looking device was double encrypted and on a network outside of International Rescue systems, brothers would be brothers after all. That Kayo apparently now knew about the phone, that she must have been told to look for it in his room and secret it into the rucksack was equal parts cool and alarming. He would have to thank her later. And think of an appropriately hideous threat to ensure her absolute secrecy.

Sitting down on the bench beside the shower cubicle, Gordon switched on the phone and pressed his thumb over the fingerprint reader. A small pink icon appeared on the screen and he was holding his breath as he tapped it and pressed the phone to his ear. Two rings and the connection opened, as if she had been waiting for his call, and he had not realised just how much he needed to hear her voice. Some part of him was terrified of how that felt, but he listened to the smile in her soft greeting and sighed a quiet hello in return. Gordon closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, feeling some of the weight at last lifting from his shoulders.

 _Tbc …_

* * *

 _A/N: 'Floris' is the official royal perfumer to HRH Elizabeth II. Seemed appropriate._

 _No idea if this is how Tripler works but it's how British military hospitals are run. And it's a fictional future, after all._


	5. 5 Virgil

_I've edited this_ _chapter SO many times to make sure it makes sense but, at the end of the day, we are in the mind of someone coming out of anesthesia so it's supposed to be kind of trippy. Apologies if the changing tense makes you dizzy but, personally, I'm not a great fan of past events told in italic "dream style"._

 _And I know the Tracy's are American so I do my upmost in my writing to keep the terminology, slang and spelling true to that but the original writers were Brits and now they're Brits and Kiwis, so I'm hoping I can get away with the odd word here or there! On that note, the usual disclaimer applies; the source material is not mine, nor will it ever be. I'm just borrowing the characters and having fun by totally messing with the canon._

* * *

He was floating. Hanging in the topaz blue of a cloudless sky. He could imagine the achromatic haze of the ozone above him, the powder blue beyond and then the gradually deepening shades that followed. Neon, cerulean, cornflower, steel, midnight, Virgil could name every variant. Colors were his thing. He knew hues, tints, saturations, how to blend them and what to compliment them with.

Blue had been, and always would be, Virgil's favorite color. Even though, in recent times, green had made a serious bid for top position. Blue for him was calm, relaxation and comfort. He had never thought of it as a cold color, never associated it with anything other than the fondest of memories. The Uxbridge shade of Air Force dress poly-cotton, the chipped cobalt of the Harley Softail he had restored with his grandfather or the sapphire pendant that his mother had always worn.

Virgil could think of nothing better than to be suspended there in the brightness of his blue, his body void of sensation and his mind quiet. He had no recollection of how he had got there or for how long he had been adrift on the air but that was not important right now. Right now he was weightless, carefree and surrounded by serene blue nothingness.

Suddenly a steady stream of air rushed over Virgil's face, blew into his hair and murmured past his ears. And now he remembered the last time he had hung in a sky like this, so high above the ground and yet not as scared as he probably should have been. That was over six years ago now. The result of a birthday gift that had been so unexpected, so different from the usual artistry supplies or additions to his vinyl collection. He had then waited impatiently for the weather conditions and his brother's tight schedule to match before they had finally headed out together.

The airstrip had been small; only one hangar and a neat little control office sitting alongside. He had watched Scott chat merrily with the ground staff while they signed them both in and waited for the plane to return. Virgil remembered how excited he had been, how the pre-flight prep and equipment check had seemed to take forever before they were climbing to 15,000 feet.

Parachute jumping had been part of all of their flight training but this was so much different, purely for the thrill and shared delight in free-fall. Scott was the most experienced of all of them, enough jumps under his belt to be a trainer if he wanted to, and he had exited first, a camera fixed to his helmet so he could record every last moment for them.

The tight grip of the harness and the closeness of the instructor clipped to Virgil in his tandem jump had been soon forgotten as wind met his face and his mind had filled with nothing but wonder. It was too high to be afraid, the ground below them too far away for his brain to compute, and the cushion of air had held them in the blue.

That had been a good day and Virgil was soon lost in the memory of being with his big brother for the three days of laughter and relaxed vacation that followed. Perhaps time had somehow spun back and he was now repeating that jump. Vaguely aware of the increasing sense of falling and the gentle harness-like pressure around his chest, Virgil was sure there would soon be the sudden pull and lurch of the parachute opening.

The air brake never came and he stayed there in the sky, staring up at the blue. And gradually it dawned on him that if he was facing sky, during a free-fall, then something must be wrong. He tried to right himself and found that nothing would move. Virgil's arms and legs were not weightless, cushioned against the pressure of the air but instead they were heavy and numb.

"It's okay." Came a gentle voice beside him. "I'm right here."

Gordon? Why was Gordon talking to him? That made no sense at all. Gordon had not been there that day.

"You're alright, Virgil. I promise."

Gordon certainly sounded calm but that did not make any sense either; Gordon hated heights. Put him five miles under the ocean, the water pressure trying to crush him like a bug, and Gordon was in his element. Tall buildings and mountain summits, forget about it.

"Relax, bro'. Just relax."

Virgil did as requested, concentrating on the blue around him to bring the endless sky back into focus and the presence of his brother had now changed that sky a little. There were subtle wisps of cloud high above him, breaking up the more azure color wash overhead.

The familiarity of this new sky drew him towards a different memory and, though he was still floating, he was not in the air. He could remember the gentle rocking of the boat beneath him that had lulled him almost to sleep and how he had lazily watched the distant clouds morph and glide as they passed by.

A welcome peace had descended that afternoon, as he lay back in the RIB that was anchored a mile off of the island jetty. This far out a gentle breeze had drawn the heat from his skin and with it any lingering tension from his body. It was the day after the first rescue, the day after they had realised just what they had all signed up for. Their maiden voyage had been chaotic, uncoordinated and not very successful. The dream of International Rescue seemed to have shattered at their father's feet and none of them had slept in the stunned discomfort of the night that followed.

After an awkward breakfast of wary glances and little appetite, they had all gone their separate ways. Virgil had taken it upon himself to shoulder most of the blame and, with no previous experience to fall back on, no one seemed to know what to say to him. Then Gordon had sought him out and, without any of his usual quips, had simply tugged on his arm and told Virgil to follow him.

He had been reluctant at first; he preferred the snow of a Denver winter and could not get used to the idea of Christmas approaching in ninety degree heat and humidity. The notion of leaving his air conditioned room to go for a walk, or god forbid a run, in this weather was insane. He had followed nonetheless and been mildly amused when he was led down to the water's edge and realised that his brother was taking him fishing. Or rather, Gordon's version of fishing. There were no rods or lines but a lethal looking speargun and soon Gordon was wrapped neck to toe in camouflage neoprene. With the shrugged explanation that he needed a diving buddy, Gordon had nudged Virgil into the RIB and sped them away from the island.

It had indeed been as calm and refreshing as Gordon had promised. Virgil had laid back in the boat, listened to the gentle lapping of the waves and stared up at the blue, the odd seabird passing by on it's journey further out across the ocean.

Gordon had been in and out of the water on repeated trips to the sea bed. Sometimes he would join his brother back in the RIB only long enough to have a sip of his drink and deposit the shells he had collected from the seabed, some simply because he thought were pretty and others for scientific research. He was apparently studying the ecosystem around the island and feeding back his findings to colleagues across the globe. Other times he had stayed for longer in the boat, telling Virgil all about his prior exploration in the new submersible that he would pilot and the system of reefs and caves that he had mapped out around Tracy Island.

That day the two of them had started to define the partnership that they would need in the years that followed, developing an understanding and appreciation for each other that their professional relationship would be founded on. Virgil had listened as Gordon told him all about his experience in WASP and the singular needs of an underwater rescue. He had then allowed Virgil to get off his chest everything that he thought had gone wrong the day before, how their approach to rescues had to change and how John, not Scott, should be overseeing the entire situation. Scott could get to the incident scene faster than any of them but John had a unique perspective and the calm, analytical mind that could figure out what was needed and where.

The length of time that Gordon spent underwater had gradually increased. It seemed on that first dive with Virgil that he had wanted to acclimatise his brother to the fact that he could stay under for long periods on one breath of air. He had apparently done the same with Alan, although their youngest brother would join him in the water and keep a fascinated eye on him from the surface as he dived.

All of them were proud of Gordon's expertise in the water. His natural talent had earned him the olympic gold that hung in his bedroom and had then helped him strengthen the broken pieces of his spine after his accident. On land there would be the occasional stoop or grimace, evidence of the parts of Gordon that had never fully healed, but in water he was a different man. Gordon made it seem effortless as he ploughed along the surface in powerful strokes or twisted and twirled in elegant moves as he dived.

Despite Gordon's incredible skill, Virgil could remember that as the morning had turned into afternoon he had started to look at his watch and make a note of the dive times, as much unsettled as he was impressed. As he recalled the increasing fear that had entered into that previously peaceful day, Virgil could feel his heart skipping an irregular beat and somewhere in the distance he heard his brother reassuring him. Gordon's voice pulled him out of the memory of that day and into a present time that he could not quite place and this only added to his fear.

"Hey, calm down, Virgil." Gordon soothed quietly and then, to someone just out of earshot added: "This is normal, right?"

Normal. Virgil shook his head and the world swirled around him. Nothing about it was normal. Fourteen minutes was too long for a human being to hold their breath. Sure that Gordon was drowning somewhere beneath him, Virgil was at once in a panic and starting to sit up.

"No no." Gordon was there in an instant, one hand on his shoulder and another grabbing his wrist, his voice much closer. "You're just waking up. Give it time."

Waking up? Waking up from what? Had he fallen asleep in the boat? He was meant to be Gordon's dive buddy. He was meant to be keeping an eye out. Virgil tried again to sit up or turn or even just lift his head and suddenly Gordon had hold of both of his wrists.

"Easy there, big fella!" Gordon's half gasp and half laugh was strained as he held on to Virgil. "Shit! Should you give him something to calm him down? You're too strong, dude! Dial it back a little."

Virgil was quick to obey and heard his brother chuckling beside him. The sound made him relax even more and he let himself sink back into the memory of that day. How, after scanning the surface of the ocean for what seemed an eternity, a splash and a puff of air had again signalled Gordon's safe return and he was there beside the boat.

Carefully throwing his spear gun into the boat and his catch soon after, Gordon had grabbed the side of the RIB with his gloved hands and lithely pulled himself up out of the water. He had greeted Virgil with a grin and a _'_ _hey there Cap_ _'_ _n!_ _'_ as he had rolled into the boat, flicking spray everywhere. Virgil had frowned at him and his brother had watched him tap at his watch. Looking at his own diving watch and swiping away the seawater, Gordon had simply shrugged and said it wasn't anywhere near his best.

Grumbling something about never again going out with Gordon for a 'relaxing' fishing trip, Virgil remembered with fondness as his brother had pointed at the bounty of fish on the floor of the boat and declared that _he_ was relaxed and yet he had done all the work. Gordon had then checked the camera that was strapped to his wrist and slid himself along the side of the RIB, a little ungainly with his long fins still on his feet. He had shown Virgil a few of the images he had taken and been so enthusiastic that Virgil had quickly forgotten his previous concern.

The bright colors of a vast array of fish and plant life were indeed stunning. Virgil had been transfixed, particularly so when Gordon had later transferred the images to one of the big screens in the den and shown him the wonder that had been below him. Virgil had then been keen to paint some of the fish that lived around their island, flashes of the brightest pigments amid the blue of the sea. He had also drawn some of the birds he had seen, both out on the water and later in the trees surrounding the island. It made the place start to feel more like home and his mood had quickly improved.

There were many more days like that first day, out in the RIB together, enjoying each other's company and the therapy of the open water, Virgil above and Gordon below. Virgil would take a book and his sketchpad in a waterproof bag and a camera for the times when a curious dolphin broke the surface nearby or a whale flume puffed on the horizon.

He had never himself got into the water but had started to think about it. Right up until five weeks ago when another visitor had almost sent him into cardiac arrest. He had assumed the small shadow was another dolphin, but the shape of the dorsal fin, the flick of a spiked gunmetal grey tail and an instantly recognisable head had been the stuff of Virgil's nightmares ever since.

Gordon had surfaced a few minutes later and been quick to reassure his brother. Yes, he'd seen the shark above him and it was apparently only checking them out. But it had taken a long time for Virgil to calm down, despite Gordon's continued assurances that he was perfectly safe. It was a young Grey Reef Shark, he had explained, only one of a few he had seen around the island and not dangerous if you knew what you were doing. But Virgil had not been convinced. They had headed back to the island shortly afterwards and Virgil had insisted Brains designed some kind of underwater 'get the hell out of there' device for Gordon to wear.

Back to a present time that Virgil could still not figure out, Gordon had become quiet and Virgil's heartbeat was galloping painfully in his chest. Gone was the pale reassuring blue of the sky he had been focusing on. Or even the endless beauty of the sunlight streaked blue of the underwater world. Now all that filled his mind was churning sea, bloodstained spray and the gaping maw of a Great White breaching the surface.

He wanted to reach for the alarm on his watch, get his brother out of the water as soon as he could. Hell, at this point, he was even considering jumping into the ocean to find him. The sudden strong grip on both his wrists returned and once again he instinctively fought against it.

"Stop. Stop! You're okay."

Gordon. Thank fuck. Virgil relaxed his arms a little and shook his head, trying to clear fog that had now descended.

"Hey, Virgil, take a breath. You're okay."

Virgil yielded, trying to expand his lungs beyond the tight band that gripped around his chest. What was that anyway? His life jacket? As he inhaled deeply, phlegm caught in his throat and he coughed, the action seeming to split his right side open. He grabbed at his chest in alarm but felt only soft cotton, not the wet mess of a wound that he was sure could be the only reason for such pain.

Slowly the agony subsided but a familiar ache remained, a sensation that he now knew had been there for some time. He kept his breathing shallow, careful and his head was still swimming in confusion. His eyes were tightly closed now and only a painful pinkish white filled his vision. Forcing himself to try and relax further, he blinked open his eyes for a second and caught a quick glimpse of his brother leaning over him.

"Sh'k."

"What was that?" Gordon queried.

Virgil's throat was dry and sore, his voice not sounding like his own. "Gordon?"

"Yeah, it's me, bro'." Came the reply, the waiver in Gordon's voice either from fear or amusement.

Opening his eyes briefly again, Virgil saw the smile that greeted him. He tried for another deep breath and was relieved as a cough did not follow. "I thought … shark."

"No. Not in here."

"Big shark." Virgil continued, trying to get his bearings. "In the sky."

"Right. Of course there was."

Virgil huffed a sigh of relief, wincing as he did so. He knew that voice, Gordon's _'_ _just how much rum have you had?_ _'_ voice. If he was using that tone then there was no immediate danger. Virgil relaxed a little more and took a couple more glimpses around the room. No sky. No boat. No ocean. Just the rails of a hospital bed and bright blue floor to ceiling material that curtained him off on either side.

"Recovery ward." Gordon offered quietly.

Looking back at his brother, Virgil nodded; he was starting to remember where he was in his timeline of memories and the events of the immediate past. The images of skydiving with Scott or accompanying Gordon diving were slowly receding to the back of his mind.

"You with me? Or are you still tripping?"

"I'm here." Virgil replied, unable to stop another hacking cough and a shout of protest immediately in it's wake.

"It's okay, it's okay." Gordon was standing and leaning over him again, one hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Just take it easy. Busted ribs, dude. Remember?" Fear crossed Gordon's face and he leaned in closer. "You do remember, right?"

Virgil nodded; he remembered all too well. The sensation of the sudden drop, the noise of the rockslide, the pain of the impact. Waking up in Thunderbird Two and arriving at the hospital was a little hazy but he could piece together enough to understand what had happened.

Someone moving beyond the end of his bed then caught Virgil's attention and he watched the nurse peering in to check on him. She glanced at the monitors beside him and smiled as she caught his eye. Turning to Gordon, she placed a finger over her lips and gave a slight shake of her head. Virgil looked over at his brother and watched Gordon mouth an apology before the nurse disappeared back behind the curtain.

"Visitors aren't supposed to be in here." Gordon explained, his voice hushed. "But I know what waking up alone in these places is like."

Managing a smile, Virgil nodded to try and convey his appreciation. He rested back against the bed and tried to find his calming vision of blue again. The breeze he had felt was apparently the gently oscillating fan beside him and in his swirling mind it was easy to morph the bed back into a cushion of air or their father's boat, sans shark. He was aware of Gordon sitting back down beside him and his brother was fidgeting as he started talking in a hushed voice once again.

"Seems you're as bad as me when it comes to waking up from anesthetic. It's a sucky trip, right?"

Virgil gave a small shrug; apart from the shark making an unwelcome visit, he had enjoyed the dreams/memories before his return to awareness.

"Hey, why a shark, bro? Oh god, you're not still worried about my little 'reefer' buddy, are you?"

Virgil nodded.

"Jeez, no more Discovery Channel, ok? Or has Alan been winding you up still? I warned that little twerp that I'd - "

"It's not, Alan." Virgil urged, "Leave it. I'll be fine." He could see his brother was unconvinced but Virgil was too tired to argue. He yawned and lifted a hand to wave at his surroundings. "So. what's been going on?"

"Well. You fell." Gordon replied, "But you know that part. Yeah? And you know we're in Hawaii. Right? Well, we made some new friends, threatened some nosy reporters. You've got titanium rods holding you together. It's all good."

Still not quite fully awake but able to focus on his brother chatting to him, Virgil listened as Gordon continued to give him the bullet notes of the past however many hours. It was becoming hard to keep his eyes open but he nodded in the right places and was more grateful than he could explain for his brother's presence beside him.

"Kayo's around somewhere doing ninja security stuff. And Scott is just outside. Brains remotely piloted Two back to the island and he said she's in need of some routine maintenance, nothing more. Scott thinks he can borrow a jet from the airfield to get us home, or something. But there's no rush. Colonel Casey is covering for us until we're back online."

Virgil lifted his head and looked down at Gordon in sudden concern. "We're grounded?"

"Not in _that_ way." Gordon assured him quickly, "Just having a time out." He sighed and looked down at his hands. "All of this kind of … well … it was a wake up call. We can't go on back to back rescues without proper rest. Or, well, this is what happens."

He couldn't see his brother's lowered face clearly but something in Gordon's voice made a cold sense of dread start to pool within him. Suddenly Virgil was frightened that he was never going to be part of rescues again, that this accident was the end of the line for him. He took a moment to do a quick diagnostic of his current situation, focusing on one part of his body at a time.

His overall sensation was numbed, a gentle buzzing in his head telling him that this must be thanks to whatever drugs were being pumped into his system. They fed in through the lines that were stuck against his neck and another in the crook of his arm. There were sticky pads on his chest, arms and abdomen where the telemetry fed his vitals to a machine somewhere behind him and a small tube fed oxygen into his nose. Nothing out of the ordinary, all things considered.

It seemed most of him felt like one big bruise, his chest was tight and aching, and the odd twinge of a freshly repaired wounds on his arm and abdomen made themselves known if he shifted position. In general his body was far too heavy to move and there was a faint memory of the agony of moving and Scott's urgent cries for him to lie still.

Virgil could feel his heart racing as he turned his attention to his lower half. And there in lay a significant problem: he wasn't entirely sure if there was a lower half to him. Lifting his head and peering down the bed, his breath caught in his throat and he was aware of Gordon quickly standing. Virgil turned to his brother and could suddenly feel anger welling inside him. Surely his brother would have told him if -

"What?" Gordon urged. "What is it?"

"Gordon," He managed, swallowing back the sob that threatened, "Why can't I feel my legs?"

Gordon reacted immediately, summoning the nurse and alerting her to the problem. Virgil was aware of his brother studying his face in hope of any reaction as the bed sheets were untucked and the nurse was apparently touching his feet. He then closed his eyes and shook his head at every urgent clarification that he had no sensation or movement. Holding out his hand, he was instantly rewarded with one of Gordon's to cling on to and his brother stayed there close beside him, an anchor amid the chaos that soon erupted.

 _Tbc …_


	6. 6 John

_Mixing canons again with some references for TOS thrown into TAG. Hope the purists don't find me in my little hidey hole with my group of borrowed characters. A couple of OCs are mine but I promise I'll put the rest back when I'm done. Thanks for reading._

* * *

It was sometimes easy to forget that Alan was still a teenager. Yes, he had some height to gain, he had hours of lessons a day and there was the whining and sulking that he could still just about get away with, but every once in a while he suddenly grew up. Today was definitely one of those days.

After taking over control of Five and ordering John to get some rest, Alan had soon then discovered said brother wide awake and deep in conversation with Scott. Confiscating his comm. device and telling EOS to temporarily disable John's computer access (the two of them ignoring John's cries of betrayal) Alan had thought that was the end of it. An hour later and John had still been awake and continuing to fret about every minutiae of the days events.

Alan had decided at that point that John was unable to switch off because of the environment of Five. John had argued that this was essentially his home but to Alan it seemed the immense structure was one big office and a continuous source of distraction. Alan had then asked EOS about John's sleep pattern over the past weeks and the younger brother's face had said it all. With a thinly veiled threat to call Scott and tell him the potential burnout John was facing, Alan made an executive decision and led his brother off the station.

During the ride home in Thunderbird Three, Alan had been intense and quiet in his concentration. It was something John had not witnessed for himself for quite some time and he had been proud to watch Alan piloting the craft with such confidence. He knew Alan was a capable pilot but seeing it first hand was something else.

Every launch was a potential explosion, every orbit a flight through a shooting gallery. But the real hazard was always the way down. During the radio silence of reentry, all John could ever do was wait for the confirmation of clear passage through the atmosphere. Over the comm. Alan would often be all quips and bravado, emulating their eldest brother; to see Alan's calm focus and skill was quite something, and John saw a frown hovering over Alan's eyes that was actually more like Virgil than Scott.

Thunderbird Three had to hit the upper atmosphere at exactly the right angle, and he got only one shot. Alan had notional control but most of the decisions were taken by onboard computers. There was no margin for error, no second chance and no hope of baling out. It had always been a terrifying experience for John and, despite his faith in his brother's piloting and Brains' design, he had closed his eyes and tried not to think about the 1500C heat that ionised the air around them and lit up the heat shield.

Once safely back in Thunderbird Three's island silo, Alan had shot a small grin at John and made some remark about new underwear. John had laughed and thumped a fist into Alan's shoulder but then his brother had quickly switched back into work mode and run through the post flights checks.

The two of them had been greeted at the hangar access by their grandmother and, though she was not tearful and upset like the last time John had spoken to her, she had hugged the pair of them for just that little bit longer. Alan had then given John a gentle shove and shadowed him all the way from the changing rooms to his bedroom.

Alan had cleared the room of comm. devices and computers, pointed at the bed and wandered from the room, leaving the door ajar as a clear indication that he would be checking that John was asleep. John had been too tired to argue, only really acknowledging just how tired when he flopped onto the soft mattress and buried his head into the pillow.

It was three hours and twenty-seven minutes later when John next awoke, his eyes trying to focus in on the clock beside the bed as he slowly came to. It was still light outside and his mind was swirling with calculating time differences and trying to piece together a timeline of everything that had happened. It was a testament to how overtired he was that he could not reach a conclusion but what he did know for certain was that he was hungry.

Climbing from the bed and taking a moment to steady himself in the stronger gravity of being earthbound, John padded barefoot into the corridor. As much as he loved his life on five, it was refreshing to now be wearing only the thin, loose cotton of a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and not wrapped in the form fitting pressure suit.

He could hear voices out in the main complex and as he emerged onto the second level landing he could make out the argument that was occurring on the floor below. Taking careful steps down the staircase, remembering the many occasions in the past when his unaccustomed legs had almost given out beneath him, he turned in the curve and could see the three of them all but shouting at each other.

Brains was sat at the long dining table, a mug in his hands and a concerned frown above his glasses. He shook his head slowly, his shoulders were stooped and he seemed to be admitting some kind of defeat. Alan was in the kitchen, leaning against one of the cupboards, his arms folded and his scowl obvious. Grandma Tracy was now the only one talking, her hands on her hips and her face flushed as she stood between them both.

"I don't give a damn about security or transport issues or any more of this nonsense! I want to be with my grandson!"

Alan sighed, "But Grandma, it's not - "

"I don't care!" Grandma's voice was getting tired but the anger in her face was far from it. "It was a different matter this morning when it was 'just' a badly broken leg. And I knew then that your brother was not telling me the whole truth."

"We were t-trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting!" Grandma protested, whirling on the engineer. "I need to be with Virgil."

"Grandma," Alan unfolded his arms and forced a smile. "He's going to be asleep for hours, yet. It took him a while to come round from the first anesthetic. And Scott said with the sedation, it'll be far longer this time."

John's knees buckled a little and he sat down quickly on the step behind him, half way down from the top. None of them seemed to have noticed him and he held his breath as he watched his grandmother continue.

"Save it, Alan! Save all of your platitudes about how it's one of the best hospitals in the world, or how Colonel Casey's friend is looking after him, or even that, yes, he is still asleep. I'm worried and I have every damned right to be!"

"I know, Grandma - "

"No, you don't, Alan! You have _no_ idea! I'm not an astronaut or a pilot or a first responder. I'm just a grandmother."

John watched her take a breath and pause for a moment. She was fierce in her obvious upset and John was surprised that Alan was so calm and not flinching at her angry words. John wondered if perhaps Alan had seen his grandmother like this before and knew it was best to let her get her rant off of chest. He had not spent nearly as much time with her as the rest of them had and had never seen her quite like this. Her body language and her tone were so very much like their father's, unsurprising as she was the original source of that infamous Tracy temper.

Alan took a few careful steps around the kitchen station and moved towards her. "Scott said as soon as they know the procedure is successful, he and Gordon are heading home." He saw her start to protest and raised his hands in quick assurance. "As _soon_ as they get here, one of us can take you to Hawaii. Ok? But we can't right now. Not while John's sleeping."

This seemed to be John's cue and he cleared his throat to get their attention. All three of them spun to look in his direction and he gave a small wave of greeting.

Alan rushed from the kitchen and up towards him, taking the steps two at a time. "John! Did you fall? Are you okay? Have you hurt yourself?"

"No, no, I'm okay." John assured quickly, leaning back as Alan held out his hands to help him up. "I just sat down. I mean, I heard you all arguing and - "

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." Alan perched on the step beside him and glanced down at Grandma and Brains. "We didn't mean to wake you."

"Sorry, John." Grandma agreed quietly. Her body language had softened some but her anger still remained and she shook her head as she sank into one of the chairs at the other end of the table from Brains.

John could feel the tension that hang between the three of them and he turned to Alan. His little brother was so very obviously worried about something and the thin smile that he offered John did not reach his eyes. "Alan? What's happened?"

"Well." Alan paused, apparently trying to find the right words. "Virgil had … well … there was a complication."

John sank back against the steps behind him and his heart thudded in his ears. "What sort of complication?" He saw the hesitation in his little brother's face and John turned to look down at his grandmother and Brains. "Guys? What's going on?"

"A s-spinal hematoma." Brains answered. "There was another b-bleed. Between L4 and L5. It was c-compressing on the spinal c-cord, causing loss of sensation and m-motor function. The surgeons decided to go back in and d-drain it."

John's body went cold and his throat tightened. "And?"

Alan sighed beside him and placed a hand on John's arm. "And we don't know any more than that. They're waiting for Virgil to wake up to see what, if any, sensation he has."

Nodding slowly, John let the new information sink in. He then turned to his grandmother and could well understand how she was feeling. Getting to his feet, grateful for Alan's help in ensuring his balance, John cleared his throat and turned back towards the upper level. "I'm going to get dressed."

"But, John - " Alan's protest was short-lived. He saw the look on his brother's face and fell silent.

"Prep the Condor." John confirmed, "We're going to Hawaii."

* * *

John had been more than happy to relinquish piloting their Dad's Delta wing flyer southwards across the Pacific. The compact jet was deceptively fast, with responsive controls that needed a skilled hand; despite the jolt of shock at the news of Virgil's condition, and the coffee he had hastily downed, he was nowhere near awake enough to be at the helm.

The Condor had been the first craft that his father and Brains had designed; they had needed far more than a private jet in order to scour the seas for a suitable base of operations. It was not at all unusual for rich business tycoons such as their father to own a jet and the craft looked fairly unremarkable amidst the ground traffic of an airfield, the VTOL and ramjets hidden in the sleek shape. The design was nowhere near as ostentatious as some craft that filled the skies but there were scarce few that could land on the top of an office building or just outside the hangar of a secret island base.

John could remember travelling in the jet for the first time and revelling in the speed, eager for his dad to teach him how to fly it. Those memories seemed so far out of reach now, despite the familiar feel of the leather seats and the unmistakeable scent of the hula dancing air freshener that Scott had insisted on sticking above the flight controls.

None of them had used the Condor since their Dad had disappeared; she was his baby and had sat abandoned in the hangar for over a year now. It was a fact that he, Alan and Grandma had avoided mentioning while they dusted off the controls and then taxied out into the sunshine. The little jet could just fit in the corner of Thunderbird Two's hangar and had slid out along the short runway without the need for the palm trees to move clear of her squat wings.

It was only when Alan contacted Honolulu International airport that the provenance of the plane was acknowledged, the air traffic controller recognising the registration and welcoming 'Mr Tracy' back to Hawaii. Alan had grinned, delighted at the title, only realising the poignant significance when his big brother had given a little gasp beside him.

The VTOL jets were for landing without a runway and in areas where they would not cause attention. It had been some time since Alan had landed 'old school' and the small jet bounced a little before settling into a taxi and turned into the queue of arriving traffic. John smiled and eagerly congratulated his brother for the safe arrival.

Island tourists was their disguise and this seemed to be working perfectly well until they stepped into the arrivals lounge and a reporter appeared to recognise Alan. John slipped his arm through Alan's and nudged him forward, aware of their grandmother close on his heels. He hoped against hope that the journalist was making a beeline for someone behind them, his heart slamming into his chest as the small man then waved and said Alan's name.

"Hello again." The Australian began excitedly, "Frank Simmons. We met in Sydney."

John heard Alan groan in dismay and the three of them had no choice but to pause as the reporter stepped in front of them, other passengers passing by and unwittingly blocking their escape.

"The title is still yours, y'know: youngest driver ever to start in a rally." Simmons continued, "Any plans to compete this year? Maybe even finish? Signed with anyone yet?"

"No, not yet." Alan smiled politely. "No plans."

John was looking for an exit, still holding on to his brother and ensuring their grandmother was at his back. He didn't notice the recording device that was presented to his brother or the uninterpretable smile under the reporter's thick moustache.

"I take it you've come to see your brother."

John managed to contain his shock and was pleased to see Alan's face was unreadably calm but behind them their grandmother gasped in horror.

"Any news on how he's doing?"

"No comment." Alan replied, trying to side step Simmons.

"Word is, Virgil was brought here by International Rescue. Can you confirm that?"

"No. Comment." Alan repeated, a little louder and with the hint of a threat. It seemed to work. He waited for Simmons to back away a little, lower the recording device and Alan stepped to one side and slipped by him.

John was quick to follow, grabbing his grandmother's hand and moving into a gap in the airport foot traffic. His pulse was loud in his ears, almost drowning out his grandmother's quiet 'what the hell? how the hell does he know that?' and he glanced back at her to shake his head in a quick warning.

Outside the airport, the three of them looked to one another in dread as they waited on the kerb. John wanted to call Kayo, to see if she knew about the security leak, but he dared not risk someone overhearing or that - god forbid - someone had hacked the IR frequency. Suddenly feeling very afraid of having left the security of the island and worried that they had made a terrible mistake in bringing Virgil here, he was quiet as he watched his grandmother flag down a cab.

Arriving at the front entrance of the immense coral building, the three of them made their way across to the ground floor reception desk and John took a deep breath before greeting the staff on duty. Rather than call more attention to who they were and who they had come to visit, he tried to recall the name of the chief of surgery. It was barely half a minute later when Scott emerged from the elevator across from them and he jogged across the lobby. John turned quickly and offered his older brother a smile in greeting, only seeing the anger in his eyes a little too late.

"Kayo just saw you on the security cameras. What the _hell_ are you three doing here?' Scott demanded, his voice low in deference to the other visitors around them but his tone quite clear. He turned from John to Alan and sighed loudly. "I thought I told you - "

"I asked them to bring me." Grandma Tracy stepped in front of John and Alan, her height disadvantage of little matter as she put her hands on her hips and glared up at Scott. "And the chain of command bullshit has no bearing with me, young man, so stow it."

John could sense Alan trying not to giggle and had to admit (yet again) that their grandmother was quite imposing when she wanted to be. He could see equal amounts of surprise and dismay moving across Scott's face and the eldest of them relented with a slight groan.

"Okay, Grandma. I'm sorry." Scott glanced at John briefly and shrugged his shoulders, "It's just … if you'd asked me first … I thought it was better that you guys stayed at home."

"Negative." Grandma folded her arms across her chest. "Now, where's Virgil?"

"ICU."

"And?" John demanded.

Scott looked between the three of them, well aware that Gordon had called and told them what had happened. "And he was in a lot of pain when he came round from the second surgery." He smiled thinly, seemingly both glad and not with this development. "He seems to have full sensation but we have to wait before they can test his motor function."

"Oh, thank god." Grandma sighed, speaking for all for of them it seemed. "So can we see him?"

Scott nodded, "They're real strict. I'll take you to where the rest of us are waiting." He held out his arm and Grandma slipped a hand around his elbow, leaning into him and offering a soft apology.

John turned to Alan and could see in his face the same relief, they headed off after their brother and stepped into the elevator. They were the only occupants in the small car and John took a deep breath. "So … Scott. We need to tell you what happened at the airport."

Scott's reaction was as furious and worried as expected. He was still muttering expletives under his breath as the elevator opened onto the third floor, his language going surprisingly unchecked by their grandmother. John watched his brother make a concerted effort to calm down as they stepped out into the bright corridor and they followed Scott to the office a few doors down.

The office door was open and they could hear Gordon chatting with someone inside. Scott's appearance at the door halted the conversation and Scott smiled in greeting.

"Guys. This is Captain Fletcher. Colonel Casey's friend that I told you about." Scott explained, stepping inside the small office and making room for the three of them to follow.

The tall surgeon stood quickly from behind the desk and hurried round towards the new arrivals. He held his hand out towards their grandmother, smiling warmly. "Please. Call me Ben."

"Thank you for looking after Virgil, Ben." Grandma Tracy smiled back, shaking his hand firmly. "When can I go see him?"

"It's strictly one visitor at a time, at the moment." Fletcher explained. "Gordon was just with him for a few minutes."

"He's sleeping, Grandma." Gordon offered quietly, "The nurses will call if - "

"No. I'd like to see him now." Grandma Tracy stated firmly.

Captain Fletcher looked around the room and saw all of them nodding in quick agreement. He smiled and held his arm out towards the door. "Follow me, ma'am."

John stepped further into the office and looked around at the pictures and posters. He moved aside so Alan could step past him and was aware of his youngest brother giving Gordon a tight hug. The two of them then sat down on the small couch and began to talk quietly about everything that had happened.

Scott perched on the edge of the large desk and took out the comm. device from his pocket. "Kayo? R-V in the museum. Soon as."

John heard Kayo's brief, equally covert, confirmation and John saw the concern on Scott's face. "Do we really think there's a security breach?"

Scott sighed and shrugged his shoulders as he turned to John. "Some reporters managed to get their way past Kayo's security net. They went to the ER and were asking about International Rescue landing in the early hours, which is fair enough, but later they went to the lobby and asked specifically after Virgil, pretending to be family."

"Son of a bitch." John hissed.

"Still," Scott's frown lifted for a second. "Gordon thinks this is a good thing."

Gordon's head flicked up at the mention of his name and he gave a small shrug. "Well, if they think Virgil was rescued by us, then they don't think Virgil is one of us. If you know what I mean."

John watched Alan nodding in eager agreement. He turned back to Scott and sighed. "He has got a point."

"Dude." Alan gasped in mock horror as he turned to Gordon. "What fresh hell is this … ? John is actually backing you up?"

"Bite me." Gordon scowled.

Alan grinned, "You're just jealous."

"Of what?"

"That I got _lei_ _'_ _d_." Alan snorted, curling a finger around the flower garland about his neck and clearly delighted with his pun.

"Yeah." Gordon smiled, "By the same woman that _lei_ _'_ _d_ John." His smile grew. "And Grandma."

John couldn't help but laugh as Gordon giggled mischievously, ignoring the fist that Alan thumped into his shoulder. He turned to Scott and saw equal amusement, the eldest of them then shaking his head slowly. "Were we ever that bad?" John asked quietly.

"Please." Scott scoffed, "You were always far too serious." He then glanced up as the door opened and he nodded towards the new arrival. "Speaking of serious."

"John, Alan." Kayo greeted curtly. "It's nice to see you but it's a safeguarding nightmare to have you all here." She smiled thinly and sat down on the arm of the sofa. "Alan, I thought I told you - "

"We _had_ to bring Grandma." Alan offered quietly, "She was beside herself with worry."

Kayo nodded, "Oh, I understand that. Believe me, I do. Doesn't make my job any easier." She looked over at Scott. "Did you tell them about the press?"

"And it seems there was a reporter at the airport." Scott nodded.

"Oh crap!" Kayo closed her eyes and stroked her hands up over her face and into her hair. Grabbing the band that was tied at the back of her head, she unleashed her ponytail and let her hair hang free around her shoulders. This seemed to do little to ease her apparent headache and she continued to massage at her temples.

The four of them watched her warily, unsure what to do or say. After a moment, John stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "What can we do to help?" He saw the brief glare she shot at him and he smiled in understanding. "Apart from not be here."

"Hang on a second. How _did_ you get here?" Kayo demanded, glancing between him and Alan.

"The Condor." John answered carefully.

"That old thing?" Kayo frowned, "I didn't think she still flew." She sighed and dropped one of her hands, the other dragging back through her dark hair. "Well, at least there's not a Thunderbird in public view. Who's guarding her?" Kayo saw the uncertainty in John's eyes and she groaned in annoyance. "I'll have to do a security sweep before you fly her home."

John turned to look over at Scott and then down at Gordon and Alan. All of them seemed equally uneasy and his heart was racing as he turned back to Kayo. "How serious a problem is all this?"

Kayo groaned in exasperation and threw both hands in the air, letting them fall back down onto her thighs with a thud. "Pretty fucking serious, John!" She looked around the room and anger shadowed her face, "Or am I really the only one who can see it?"

"You think it's _him._ " Alan quietly suggested.

Kayo nodded, watching realisation and dread move among them. "If the press know Virgil Tracy is here, then so could The Hood. And he can be just about anyone."

 _Tbc …_


	7. 7 Kayo

_My thanks to Lillehafrue for her advice on this chapter._

* * *

The late afternoon sun hung behind the gathering clouds over Oahu and the rising humidity suggested that a storm was closing in. It suited her mood. Kayo had noticed the darkening sky as she made her way back to the security office. After unintentionally shouting at her adopted family and then leaving them in stunned silence, she needed to redirect her focus before she said anything else that she might regret.

The two MPs greeted her with enthusiasm and she managed what she hoped was a convincing smile in return. They were both about her age and had been so very obvious in their flirting; she was flattered and on any other day might have reciprocated, but not today.

"Still no sign of your guy."

Kayo turned to the blond-haired MP, Jameson, and watched him smile in reassurance. She then looked towards the printed photograph of The Hood that was taped to the bottom edge of a screen between the two men. It was grainy and not a perfect head shot, the same image that had been circulated throughout the GDF and the best she could have done at short notice. He was good at avoiding cameras and that this picture was a doctored image from a family photo, no one needed to know. Of course, she very much doubted that he would enter the hospital without a disguise but the image gave her a reason to keep her new colleagues busy and made her continued presence seem less suspicious. Not that Jameson and Martinez were complaining, but their bosses might.

"Want a donut?" Martinez held out a small, grease-lined cake box towards her, his own mouth full as he smiled up at her.

Kayo shook her head and managed another smile.

"Malasada." Jameson corrected, rolling his eyes.

Martinez gave a shrug, wiping sugar from his mouth with his thumb. "Looks like a donut. Tastes like a donut."

"You're a donut."

Kayo couldn't help but snigger at the two of them and shook her head as she grabbed an office chair and wheeled it between them to sit down. "You guys remind me of my brothers."

"Wo!" Jameson recoiled from her in exaggeration "Harsh."

Martinez sighed, his darker complexion shadowed with dramatic sorrow in the light from the security feed. "Let a guy down easy, would ya?"

Smiling warmly between the pair of them, Kayo leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. "What? It's a compliment. My brothers are cool guys."

Jameson laughed dryly, "But you wouldn't _date_ one of them." He threw down the pen he had been holding and watched it bounce and clutter over the desk in theatrical emphasis.

Kayo swallowed back the retort that came to mind; as friendly as they were, these two strangers did not need to know her complicated backstory and how she had in fact dated two of her adopted brothers. On separate occasions of course. And only the once. Clumsy and awkward and ending with the predictable conclusion that it was oh so wrong to have even contemplated it in the first place. She dreaded to think what might have happened if either date had moved beyond a kiss or an exploratory fumble and the thought made her shudder.

Shaking herself out of the embarrassing past and back to her current task, Kayo looked along the line of monitors, watching as cameras flicked between angles and locations changed. One of the screens then showed a view of the main lobby at the front of the building and a familiar figure caught her interest.

"Pause 26A." Kayo ordered quickly, aware of Jameson quickly obliging.

"What?" Martinez urged, "Who d'you see?"

Kayo slid her chair towards Jameson, observing gratefully that he was all business now as she leaned in close to him and took over the controls of the paused camera. Highlighting the figure and zooming in on his face, she groaned and her headache was suddenly making a swift return.

"Who's he?" Jameson asked in interest.

"I know him!" Martinez gasped, "He's that reporter off NTBS."

Jameson sighed in dismay and shook his head. "Another one? Really?"

"Really." Kayo husked. She got to her feet and headed slowly for the door. "Do me a favour and switch off the feed from the west corridor beside the lobby. I need to have a private word with my old friend Ned."

"FAB." Jameson sing-songed, with a grin.

Kayo left the office as a heated debate then erupted between them as to what the acronym even meant. It was the same discussion the two men had previously had after they had first heard her say it to Scott. Laughing in amusement, she closed the door and headed for the elevator.

The elevator doors slid open and Kayo was suddenly met with a hesitant smile and a small wave. She frowned in interest and stepped forward to enter the car but he blocked her path and then guided her gently back into the corridor.

"I was just coming to find you." John nodded past her towards the security office. "Scott said this is where you would be."

Kayo looked up into his face, trying to read behind the smile that lingered on his mouth. She chewed the inside of her lip for a moment, aware that she really ought to apologise for shouting at him but the words were held at bay by her stubborn pride. Him bringing Alan and Grandma to Hawaii really had made the whole situation so much more complicated.

"I'm sorry."

Surprised at this unexpected turn, Kayo gave a small shake of her head.

John's smile left him and he sighed as he looked away from her. "I should have stayed on Five."

Kayo wholeheartedly agreed but kept that to herself and waited for him to continue.

"I'm so embarrassed at how badly I reacted to all of this." John took a step back from her and leaned against the wall beside the elevator. "I should have been far more in control."

Watching him fold his arms and look down at his feet, Kayo was reminded of the shy boy her father had introduced her to all those years ago. She had found it near impossible to talk to him, her bubbly enthusiasm only seeming to make him retreat further into himself and it had been a herculean task to try and find a common interest.

"I always knew it was a possibility that one of us would get injured in the line of duty." John continued quietly, "But I never thought I would feel so … helpless."

He was still looking down and Kayo frowned in frustration, concerned that the reporter would somehow elude her and feeling guilty for being distracted when John clearly needed to talk. Hoping her allies in the security office still had watch over Ned, she moved closer to John but was stopped by the pain that suddenly crossed what she could see of his face.

"It's like Dad all over again."

His quiet words felt like a kick to her stomach and Kayo closed her eyes. Of course. It didn't matter that the accident had been witnessed or that Virgil was relatively okay. The way Gordon had reacted, Alan's wary quietness, the haunted look behind Scott's otherwise calm demeanour and what she had heard of John's meltdown; they were all reliving that awful day. The day Jeff took his latest project out across the ocean and transmission suddenly stopped. The day that had somehow flicked a switch inside of her, her role within the organisation suddenly made very real and her purpose clear; nothing and nobody would ever again cause her brothers pain. Kayo stepped a little closer still, afraid to touch John in case he crumpled but also wanting to provide some semblance of reassurance.

"Somehow I always thought it would be Scott. Mr Impulsive."

Kayo nodded quietly. "Or Gordon. He takes too many chances."

John hummed in agreement and lifted his head to look at her. "So do you."

Groaning and rolling her eyes, Kayo could not help but assume the defensive stance she had used all too often of late. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can." John moved away from the wall and unfurled his arms as he closed the distance between them. "Doesn't stop us worrying."

Us? Or you? Kayo wanted to clarify this, but decided to hold her tongue and took a deep breath. She met his gaze and saw the smile that had returned and the fondness that crinkled the laughter lines beside his eyes. Suddenly she was there, back in the haze of a memory that was many years ago, John smiling this same smile and her so pleased to have found a connection. Literally.

It seemed quiet, shy John was also a keen martial arts enthusiast; he too liked the discipline, the mental clarity and the core strength it gave him. They had discovered the shared interest by chance and snuck into Thunderbird 2's immense hangar to have an impromptu one-on-one. The bout had lasted far longer than either of them expected, both of them interchanging styles and moves and rewarded with an equally skilled opponent. Then in a split second John had lost focus and her heel had met his solar plexus, knocking him down hard. Stunned and winded, he had still been smiling and managed to laugh gently as she had offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet.

"What is it?" John asked quietly, placing a hand on her arm.

Now aware that he had noticed her getting lost in her thoughts for a moment, she shook off the pang of nostalgia and smiled up at him. "We don't train together any more."

A frown settled briefly over John's eyes. "No. I guess we've both been too busy."

Busy dealing with grief in their own way. Busy searching for The Hood. Busy avoiding each other perhaps. Kayo forced another smile and shrugged, "I guess we have." She looked away from his obvious concern and quickly stepped towards the elevator to press the call button, effectively changing the subject. "Speaking of busy." She offered, her back to him as she waited for the elevator to arrive. "There's someone in the lobby who needs to be politely escorted from the building."

"Hey?"

The doors opened and they climbed inside the empty car.

"Surely one of the MPs can deal with it." John began quickly, "The reason I came to find you is that I've - "

"It can wait." She saw him flinch back from her tone and instantly regretted it, much as she had done as a child when she had inadvertently spooked him with her temper. "It will be more effective if I speak to dearest Mr. Cook myself."

" _Ned_ Cook?"

"Yep."

"Oh god. Why's _he_ here? I thought Scott got a restraining order or something."

Kayo twisted round to grin up at him and thumbed herself in the chest. "He did. I'm the 'or something'."

"Awesome." John laughed.

The elevator came to a stop and opened up onto the far side of the lobby. Kayo scanned the faces in the small crowd of people who mingled near reception or crossed the lobby en route to another department. About to call the lads in the security office, she then spotted Ned in the small atrium at the front of the lobby.

Kayo held out her arm to stop John from exiting the elevator, her heart in her throat and her senses on alert. Ned was still sitting there, in a central position on the edge of the foot traffic, and he was scanning the crowd as if waiting for someone.

"D'you think it's just a coincidence?" John whispered.

Kayo shook her head. "I don't believe in coincidences."

A group of visitors made a beeline for the elevator and Kayo stepped out of the car, aware of John close at her heels. Her intrigue now stronger than the urge to chase the reporter off, she headed into the west corridor, into the safety of offline cameras and out of Ned's field of view. John hurried after her and she guided him behind her, her focus still on the reporter.

"What's your plan?" John urged in a whisper.

Kayo smiled and turned to look at John. "He's never met you, has he?" The soft groan was confirmation enough and she hooked her thumb over her shoulder. "You go talk to him."

"Why?"

"He might run if he sees me. And I want to know why he's here." John started to protest and Kayo quickly held up her hands in reassurance. "I'll be right here if he tries anything."

"Fine." John fished out the small PDA/comm from his pocket and activated the audio. "Brains and I re-encrypted the IR frequency, by the way."

"Fantastic." Kayo enthused, glancing at her wrist comm. "Now get over there." She smiled as John rolled his eyes, clearly aware that he was not going to win this fight. Or any other, Kayo added to herself in amusement, especially if he was out of practice.

Kayo waited at the corner of the west corridor, suddenly very glad she had bought along her civilian clothes. She was trying hard not to look too suspicious and that would have been near impossible in her flight suit. As she watched John cross the lobby, she unclipped the comm from it's housing about her wrist and made a concerted effort to make it look like it was just another fancy cellphone as she contacted the security office to make sure Jameson and Martinez were still keeping an eye on Ned. Kayo was rewarded with a chant of 'FAB' from the pair of them and she smiled as she closed the connection. Those two needed a crate of beer, or something, for being so helpful.

A few seconds before John reached Ned's side, Kayo opened the IR channel and held the comm to her ear. John's device was back in his pocket so she was getting the brushing of denim over the audio but she could make out the sounds clear enough. She had no idea how John was going to approach Ned and wondered if they should have formed more of a plan but it was now too late as John sat down beside the reporter.

" _Hey, I know you, don_ _'_ _t I? From the TV?_ _"_

Kayo held her breath, peering across the lobby and trying to see Ned's reaction. She could see that the reporter had not thus far turned to look at John.

" _Yes, I-I_ _'_ _m - um - I_ _'_ _m a reporter._ _"_ Came the quiet reply.

That didn't sound like Ned. Not the audacious, bloody-minded reporter who would risk anything for a damned close up with a Thunderbird, without a care for who he might be endangering. Kayo's heart was racing and it was all she could do not to scream a warning into the comm.

" _What brings you here? Something exciting going on?_ "John continued softly.

" _You - um - you could say that._ _"_ He paused for a moment. _"_ _How_ _…_ _h_ _'_ _how is your brother?_ _"_

Kayo gasped, unsure if she had heard an equal shock from John. So Ned was here to get more information on Virgil. And he _had_ met John before. But where? Or was there some other god-dammed leak that she was unaware of?

" _I don_ _'_ _t know what you mean._ _"_ John covered quickly, _"_ _I_ _'_ _m here to see my -_ _"_

" _Which Tracy are you, then?_ _"_

"What?" Kayo mouthed, hearing John's matching query and noting the tremble in his voice.

" _You_ _'_ _re not Scott. The dark-haired one who threatened to kill me last time I saw him._ _"_ Ned could be heard heaving a sigh and he groaned softly. _"_ _Not that it matters. I_ _'_ _m not here to see you, Mr Tracy. I need to speak to Tanusha Kyrano._ _"_

Kayo had already left her post at the mouth of the corridor and disconnected the comm., heading across the lobby towards them as Ned repeated her name. A name she dare not consider how he knew. She needed to get control of this conversation before he said anything more.

He saw her almost immediately and smiled in recognition, visibly relaxing as he offered her a brief wave of greeting. Kayo saw John mouth a ' _what the fuck?_ ' in her direction and she shook her head. Taking the seat on the other side of Ned, Kayo managed a calm smile and waited expectantly.

"Please, no sudden movements. He's watching." Ned instructed under his breath.

"Is he here?"

"I don't know."

Aware of John closing his eyes and all colour draining from his face, Kayo kept her composure and slowly got to her feet. "Let's move."

Ned shook his head. "He wants me to stay in the lobby."

"Fine." Kayo took a deep breath and made another call to her new friends. "Lobby go dark." She instructed softly, waiting for confirmation before she held out her hand to Ned. "Shall we."

"Kayo!" John cautioned under his breath.

Turning to John, Kayo could feel anger moving all concerns aside and she swallowed back the defiant retort that was instantly on her lips. "It's too public to talk here." She managed quickly, quietly. "And if moving draws him out, then good. Our GDF allies will deal with him."

"He said he has my wife and daughter."

"Shit." John groaned and hung his head.

Kayo saw the pain that etched Ned's face and for the first time really took in his features; his tanned face was flushed and lined with sweat and his dark eyes were bloodshot, either from fatigue or tears. Whether his family really had been kidnapped she had no way to know but the security of her family was at stake right now and that was her priority, as cold as it may seem to others.

"He said he would call with further instructions. If I do as he says then they won't be harmed."

"And they won't be." Kayo urged. It was a big gamble but one she was willing to take. Although she was not looking forward to how Scott was going to react to all of this.

John got to his feet and stepped towards her. "Kayo - "

"Trust me." She insisted, "I just need to get us somewhere safe."

Safe was a relative term. On some days, it felt like there was nowhere beyond the shores of their island that was safe. But for right now, the small office on the third floor with the armed MPs seemed like the best place to be.

John held her gaze for a moment and then slowly nodded. He stepped back and motioned to Ned to follow Kayo. The reporter stood and Kayo hooked her arm around his to lead him across the lobby. Once inside the west corridor Kayo paused, pulling Ned to a stop. She took his cellphone from him and passed it to John, watching him taking the device apart to look for anything out of the ordinary. Calling the security office again, she asked for a clear path back up to them and listened to the directions Martinez gave her.

Well aware of John's continued uncertainty but glad that he had decided not to voice it further, Kayo nodded towards the far end of the corridor to B wing and the stairwell beyond. The three of them made their way up the stairs in silence and back to the security office. When they arrived Kayo asked the two MPs for some privacy but requested that they stay close and guard the door, noting the concern on both their faces as they headed out into the hall. They would no doubt put a call in to their colleagues to ensure the hospital security forces were still on high alert and this was a comforting thought as she closed the door.

Kayo sat Ned down and stood in front of him. "Talk."

"He called me while I was out on location." Ned began, seeming suddenly tired as he looked up at her. "Sent a grainy video file of my family in custody. He said he wants to clear his name. To make things right."

Folding her arms over her chest, Kayo felt the shuddering skip of her heart beat and dearly wished that John was not standing behind her; she had no idea what Ned was about to say but any request to ask John to also leave would only be suspicious.

"He says he is not to blame for Jeff Tracy's death."

John made a sound as though he had been punched and Kayo was aware of him sinking into one of the chairs behind her. She swallowed back the bile in her throat and kept her gaze evenly on Ned. _Disappearance_ , she wanted to clarify. No one had ever dared call it anything else. Not even after all this time.

Ned closed his eyes. "He says he has evidence that the GDF shot Jeff Tracy's prototype jet down."

Kayo heard John gasp and she clenched her teeth as renewed anger surged; the test flight was information known only to a chosen few. Nevertheless managing to keep calm, she cleared her throat and waited for Ned to look back up at her. "What exactly did he tell you?"

"That was all, Tanusha. He said he knows you will give him a chance to explain."

John scoffed at that and before she knew what she was doing, Kayo spun to shoot him a warning glare. Her pulse was thudding loud in her head as she saw the surprise and fear on his face and she turned back to Ned. "Has he shown you any of this 'evidence'?"

"Not yet. Only my wife and daughter looking terrified."

Hearing him groaning in dismay, Kayo's resolve only increased and she stepped closer to Ned. "So we need to find the bastard and stop him from hurting them." Unfolding her arms, she took a deep breath to steady herself and offered Ned a small smile. "So, what exactly is the plan? Hmm? After you contacted me, what are you supposed to do?"

"Nothing." Ned shrugged, "He only ever said to come here and that you would find me. He told me to talk only to you and tell you exactly what I've told you. Tanusha, he said you would listen."

"Why?" John husked.

Kayo took a step to the side and turned to look at John, the confusion and doubt in his eyes making her heart sink.

"Kayo?" John urged, "What does The Hood think he has over you?"

"I have no idea." Kayo replied, a little too fast. She turned back to Ned, his current silence suggesting that - please god - he knew nothing of the truth either. "All we can do now is be ready for his call."

Ned shook his head in earnest. "But, Tanusha, my family - "

"You have done exactly what he told you to." Kayo stated firmly, "Leave the rest to us. And call me Kayo."

Studying her for a long moment, Ned then slowly nodded and his shoulders sank a little further. "Fine. Kayo. I guess I have no choice but to trust you."

"Thank you." Kayo sighed, turning away from him. She looked back at John and tried to offer him a smile of reassurance before she continued her train of thought. His expression gave away nothing and she swallowed back the lump in her throat. "We need to find him."

John watched Kayo in silence, his lack of reply speaking volumes. She saw him glance at Ned and then turn his gaze back to her, making it very clear that he needed far more of an explanation. Kayo could feel her smile slipping and she clenched her fists at her side. Well aware that she was dealing with the most analytical mind of all them and sure that John was already putting all the pieces together, Kayo then saw him turn to look at the photograph of The Hood and tears stung her eyes as her world seemed to fall from under her feet.

 _Tbc_ _…_


	8. 8 Kayo

The office was quiet, the bright greys and whites of the images on the security monitors flicking around the room and rolling eerily over John's pale face. Kayo swung a chair over beside him and sat down, for the first time in a long time unsure what to say. Gone was the fiery bravado and her angry determination had left her. Suddenly she was frightened and she needed him not to ask the questions she knew he must be thinking.

"What is it that you're not telling me?" John muttered under his breath.

Kayo closed her eyes, sighing out the breath she had been holding.

"What have you found out, Kayo?" John continued quietly, "Who is this guy?"

The opportunity to lie now presented itself and Kayo had already thought of a few elaborate tales, ready for an occasion such as this. But knowing that one lie would only lead to a hundred more, and a hundred more after that, she found herself starting to consider offering him the truth.

It was inevitable that her secret would have to see the light of day at some point but she had always pictured being in control of the situation, sitting them all down and unburdening herself. There would be anger, no doubt some shouting, perhaps a few tears and she had been gradually preparing herself for all of it. But not like this. Not here among strangers, in the midst of a security nightmare, with a reporter sitting not ten feet away.

"I know you've been following leads. What do you know?"

Kayo looked back up at John and could see concern, not betrayal, beneath his gentle frown. And hope began to stir somewhere within her. Hope that he had not in fact seen the family resemblance that she herself could not avoid seeing. She glanced at the grainy image of The Hood and took a deep breath. "Some other time." She answered at last, nodding towards the reporter and glad for the excuse he presented.

Apparently content with this, if only for now, John leaned back from her and his frown lifted a little.

"We need to get ahead of this." Kayo offered, sitting up straight and easing out the tension in her shoulders before then peering up at the monitors above them. "We need to know if he really has hacked the feed." She then noticed the computer set back in the centre of the desk and turned back to John. "Can you securely access Five from here?"

"Yup."

Kayo moved aside to allow John to slide his chair in front of the terminal. He placed his hand on her arm as he passed her and gently squeezed. It was all the reassurance she needed and she felt the knot of a lump in her throat as she nodded a reply.

Getting to her feet, Kayo opened the office door and asked the two MPs to come back inside. They did so in a hurry, evidently glad to see that the reporter was unharmed.

"What?" Kayo smiled, "Did you think I brought him up here to beat him up, or something?"

Martinez shrugged, "We didn't know what your plan was, boss."

"We just didn't figure being accessories." Jameson offered lightly.

Kayo gave a small laugh and moved back to stand beside John as the door was closed and the two MPs watched her expectantly. She pointed to the monitors and frowned. "We need to know whether there's been a hack into the camera feed."

"Copy that." Jameson nodded, "I'll go take a look at the hardware and see if any devices have been clipped in."

Martinez watched his colleague head to the bank of servers behind the wall of monitors and then turned back to Kayo. "It's a closed system but an external hack is technically possible. If they get round the firewall."

"On it." John announced, apparently very pleased to be doing something proactive. "And we'll need to trace Ned's cellphone when the call comes in. I've already cloned it."

"Yeah?" Martinez raised his eyebrows in interest. "Using our system?"

"No." John replied. "Mine."

Aware of Martinez watching the pair of them in intrigue, Kayo gave John's shoulder a nudge with her hip and saw his quick nod of confirmation; he was being cautious. The IR logo had only flashed momentarily on the computer screen as John accessed their systems, his hands moving rapidly over the touch screen mounted in the top of the desk. Once connected with Five, he had immediately camouflaged the interface and now gave Kayo a discreet thumbs up.

Realising she had been completely remiss with her introductions, Kayo quickly explained to Martinez just who her red-headed companion was and watched him smile in delight. The two men shook hands briefly, John eager to turn his full attention back to his task.

"Which Thunderbird?" Martinez enthused quietly behind John's back.

Kayo turned her attention on Ned and saw him quickly raise his hands in submission. His family were relying on her, getting an exclusive story was apparently way down on his list of priorities. She smiled and spun back to Martinez. "Five. Satellite communications." Kayo caught the smile on John's face, highlighted by the light from the screen before him. "Which means he's in control of the whole operation. Y'know, basically the boss."

John grinned in delight, "Oh god, don't let Thunderbird One ever hear you say that!" He then leaned back a little from the screen, quirking an eyebrow in surprise. "Hmm. That was easy."

Kayo saw the camera footage that appeared on the computer screen and smiled in amusement as she glanced up at the identical images on the monitors above them. "You just hacked the GDF. Again."

"It's becoming something of a weekly occurrence." John sniggered, glancing at Martinez and shrugging an apology.

"Your secret's safe with me." Martinez smiled, taking a seat beside John.

"The feed _is_ being accessed by another party." John confirmed, "But the location is well hidden."

"For now." Kayo offered.

John grinned up at her, clearly in his element, his previous misgivings forgotten for now. "Yeah … give us a minute."

By 'us' he of course meant EOS. Kayo could not get her head around the idea of the presence of the AI on the station and the potential threat it still presented. But she and Scott had lost the argument and the AI remained, apparently safely contained within Five's systems. Kayo found talking to the childlike voice a very creepy experience but right now the mindbogglingly super 'super-computer' (who hated being called that) was analysing all the data John was sending and Kayo was very grateful for it's help.

"We've recently been working on a new software recognition programme to isolate and disable short-wave transmitters." John murmured, intense in his concentration.

Kayo leaned in close to him. "A signal jammer?"

"Yes, but not as clumsy. More specific."

"Is that possible?" Kayo urged, very aware that he was suggesting the potential ability to disable The Hood's remote device, preventing him from disguising himself or controlling his equipment. It was exciting, to say the least.

"It is if I can isolate his frequency, link with some of his hardware." He paused and gave a visible shudder. "So I'm kind of hoping he _is_ nearby. Which is unsettling."

Kayo patted John's shoulder and watched as a 3D floor plan of the hospital appeared on the screen and started to fill with various flashing and static icons.

"Right … there are 4,974 life signs registering in and around the building."

"Yeah?" Martinez enthused, shuffling his chair closer to them. He peered at the screen and raised his eyebrows in intrigue.

"Okay …" John entered another instruction and the icons changed. "There are thousands of individual data signals. If we discount the wireless connections from the telemetry monitors and medical devices …" He continued under his breath, entering more commands, "Pings from staff pagers, cellphone networks, various internet connections … that leaves … 68 short wave radio signals."

Kayo watched Martinez nodding in interest. "41 active military personnel." He offered, tapping the handheld radio clipped to his uniform shirt and pre-empting John's query as he told him the bandwidth they used. "Still the most reliable system after all this time."

John nodded in agreement, "27 radio signals." He recalculated quietly, "And 18 of those are police or EMS."

"Nine unknowns." Kayo confirmed, tapping her wrist comm. "Send the information across to me." She stepped away from John and headed for the door.

"Wait!"

Kayo turned and watched Martinez getting to his feet.

"I'll come with you."

About to offer a protest somewhere along the lines of her not needing any back-up, Kayo then saw the look on John's face and she nodded slowly. "Thanks."

Jameson then reappeared and shook his head firmly. "There's nothing out of place among the servers. If someone's accessing the feed, it's definitely from outside."

"Or inside." Kayo offered, her heart racing at the notion that The Hood could very well be in the building.

"Do you have a plan?" John asked quietly.

"Stay out of camera range." Kayo replied, nodding towards the wall of monitors. "You two need to watch Ned. And keep a close eye on the 'museum' and the ICU."

"Will do." John acknowledged. "I'll patch you in if Ned receives a call."

"FAB." Kayo agreed, aware of Martinez grinning at the code. She turned and opened the office door but spun back before she stepped into the corridor. "Tell the others to be cautious. But maybe don't tell Scott exactly what we're up to just yet."

"Right." John quirked an eyebrow. "Cos he's just gonna _love_ this."

Kayo nodded and left, Martinez close at her side. The two of them then made their way around the wards and various departments of the large building to confirm the signals that John had isolated. Five of them turned out to be actual old-fashioned radios that some older patients were listening to, two of them were remote controlled cars being played with on the small children's ward and one was a handheld radio being used by a visitor in the car park. The remaining signal was as yet unknown and had been broadcasting in the lobby but was now silent.

The two of them hurried back down to the front entrance and sat together on the narrow plastic chairs just inside the entrance to the west corridor. Short of doing a stop and search on everyone in the vicinity, all they could do was wait for the signal to reappear and for John to isolate who or what it was associated with. Aware of every person that moved past them or walked through the lobby, her senses on high alert, Kayo also listened to Martinez chatting idly to her. The young officer was probably just a year or two older than her and was easy to talk to, which was a good thing because for ten minutes that was all the two of them did.

"Is The Hood really as bad as they say he is?"

"Yep." Kayo turned to nod in reply and then smiled up at him. "All the worst Bond villains rolled into one. But no cat."

Martinez laughed. "D'you know, the security release we received a few months back did sound just like the plot of a bad movie."

"Except Bond isn't bad."

"I think you'll find it is."

"It's classic!" Kayo defended. "It's engrained in our culture."

"So are selfies." Martinez dead-panned, enjoying her frustration.

Kayo slapped the back of her hand against his arm and smiled as he winced. This was the sort of back and forth that she enjoyed with her brothers. Or rather had done before they had become so busy and so serious. Even Alan and Gordon had calmed down of late. It was probably a side effect of having a megalomaniac in the wings and of being so damned tired. This added tension was also why she argued with Scott so much and she hated that she could not confide in him as she once had.

"Maybe we should go for a drink." Martinez offered with a shrug, "You know, once all this is over."

Kayo smiled, "I'd like that."

"Great! There's this awesome place in Waikiki that has great views and some of the best cocktails."

Kayo listened to him enthuse about his favourite bar and laughed as he remarked that Jameson would be unbearable to live with if they didn't let him tag along. She liked Martinez; physically he was a lot like Scott but he had dark brown eyes like Virgil and Gordon's energy and enthusiasm. It amused her that her only frame of reference when it came to men was her five adopted brothers and Grandma had often remarked that Kayo ought to spend some time away from the Tracy brood. A military police officer wasn't a huge leap away from that but it was a start.

Martinez's banter was then interrupted by the sudden chirping of her comm and they both looked down at the unknown origin of the call that was displayed, the cloned cellphone signal linked with her comm. Kayo held her breath as she opened the link and heard Ned answer the phone.

" _Hello, Tanusha. I know you_ _'_ _re listening._ _"_

Kayo could not stop the shudder that went through her. This was the voice of her early memories with her family. The voice that had once soothed her after the death of her mother. The voice of her former confidante, her sensei.

She took a steadying breath and lifted her comm closer to her mouth. "Where is Ned's family?" She asked carefully, quietly. "They'd better not be harmed."

" _They are quite well, Tanusha. And will remain so as long as my demands are met._ _"_

Balling her free hand into a tight fist, Kayo tried to stay calm and to reflect as much in her voice but her contempt for him was something she was not in a hurry to hide. "What do you want?"

" _I need you to tell the world the truth, Tanusha. The insidious, almighty GDF are not the saviours everyone thinks they are._ _"_

"And you are?"

" _No. Nor have I ever claimed to be. Don_ _'_ _t be so narrow minded. I am simply a businessman, Tanusha. And right now, having Jeff Tracy_ _'_ _s death hanging over me is bad for business._ _"_

Kayo paused, her mouth dry. _"_ It never bothered you before. Why now?"

" _I have my reasons._ _"_

"So tell the reporter your story." Kayo sighed in frustration, "Let the world read it in the morning paper. Why involve us?" She closed her eyes as the gentle laugh that used to be a fond memory now sent a shiver down her spine.

" _Oh, Tanusha. Surely it_ _'_ _s obvious. You have all the Tracy_ _'_ _s in one, rather exposed location. How could I resist_ _…_ _?_ _"_

"Resist what?" Kayo husked, grateful for Martinez's gentle hand on her shoulder.

" _Proving a point. International Rescue think they can hide behind their allies in the GDF, hide behind their anonymity and their security. I am going to bring down the GDF, expose your family and take away everything they hold dear."_

" _Why?"_

Another laugh, this one the kind that entered her nightmares.

" _Because I'm the bad guy."_

The call ended abruptly and Kayo could not help the small groan that left her throat. She quickly opened a new channel and heard John reply. "Tell me you traced him."

" _Sorry. No_."

"Shit!" Leaping to her feet and dragging her hands back through her hair, Kayo could feel tears forming and she palmed her eyes angrily. Aware of Martinez standing and moving close to her, she let her hands fall down to rest on her hips and sighed loudly.

" _Kayo?"_

The comm line was still open and Kayo looked down at the device. "John."

" _The signal."_ John urged, " _It's transmitting again."_

Kayo gasped, spinning towards the lobby, her heart thudding loud in her ears as she scanned the small crowd in the lobby. "Where?"

" _South-east corner, by the window._ _"_

Instantly hurrying out into the lobby, Martinez close behind her, Kayo entered the throng of people and ignored their confused protests as she pushed past them and jogged towards the window. The seating area in the corner of the atrium was empty and Kayo skidded to a halt. "There's no one here, John!" She shouted in frustration.

"Wait." Martinez slipped past her and crouched down. He peered under the row of chairs beside the window and suddenly froze.

Kayo stepped closer to him, gasping as he quickly stood back up. Martinez shook his head at her in a stern warning before instantly addressing everyone in the lobby and ordering an immediate evacuation of the area. She could hardly breathe as she sank to one knee and looked under the chairs for herself.

The oblong device was familiar; black corrugated edges and ominous blinking red lights. She had seen the same design on the sabotaged Fireflash and Estrella Grand Hotel. Praying that it was some kind of comm array of The Hood's own making, perhaps even the means he had accessed the security footage, she leaned in closer. Kayo activated the holographic imager on her wrist comm and aimed the camera at at the device. "John?"

" _Scanning._ _"_ John confirmed.

On both previous occasions when she had discovered a device such as this, she had simply unplugged it and it was tempting to take that chance now. But it would only take a moment for John and EOS to use the spectrometry software to detect any explosive materials and Kayo waited, her heart racing.

"Kayo, get back!"

Martinez was back at her side and had grabbed her by the shoulders to pull her away from the device. "We need to get out of here."

Kayo stood back up and moved away from the device's location, aware of Martinez calling for reinforcements on his radio. She heard something about the bomb squad being mobilised and Kayo smiled, knowing John and his supercomputer friend were already on the case.

" _No explosives detected, Kayo."_

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kayo paused at the edge of the lobby. "Any idea what it is?"

" _Hang on, we're gonna try something."_

There was no sound or further warning, just an odd buzzing sensation coming from the comm device at her wrist and the sharp pop of the device bursting. The frightened shrieks of the staff and visitors fleeing from the lobby was then followed by the smell of burning. Kayo saw smoke and the first small flames that rose from under the seats by the window and shrugged free of Martinez to grab a fire extinguisher. Wanting to preserve the device for further study as much as preventing the fire spreading, she blasted the area with CO2.

It was only a second later that the fire alarm burst into shrieking life around them and Martinez then grabbed her arm. Not taking no for an answer this time, he glared a caution at her before pulling her from the lobby and she let him lead her out into the light drizzle and warm air of the growing storm.

Moving off to the edge of the small crowd that had gathered away from the lobby in the loading bay, she looked down at her wrist comm and saw the channel was still open. "John, what did you just do?"

" _Feedback loop. Should have fried the thing."_

"It certainly looked like it did." Kayo smiled but her relief was short lived. "We need to know who put that thing there."

" _We're already reviewing the footage."_

"Best start from the moment you first called Tripler."

" _I know."_ A pause and John sighed. _"And you'd better go find Scott."_

"Ugh, great." Kayo groaned. She closed the comm link and turned to find Martinez on the other side of the parking bay, liaising with his newly arrived colleagues. Looking back at the front entrance and it's lack of security, she decided to take a chance and hurried back inside.

The lobby was empty now, the squeal of the fire alarm echoing around the front entrance. Kayo's ears were throbbing as she ran over to the large window at the front of the atrium and dropped to her knees. The small black box was still smoking and she reached out a tentative hand to see if it was hot. There was a small cable leading between the device and an electrical outlet and she held her breath as she unplugged it and then pulled it from the wall. Some of the surrounding charred plaster came with it and Kayo sat back on her heels as she stared at the device in her hands.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Kayo gasped and quickly got to her feet, turning towards the voice. She sighed in relief as she saw Martinez hurrying towards her. Crossing the lobby to meet him, she hugged the device to her chest and leaned close to him to speak over the noise of the alarm. "My people need to look at this."

"But the bomb squad - "

"It was an electrical fire." Kayo countered quickly, managing a small smile. "Please."

Martinez studied her face for a moment and then slowly nodded. She knew he had already figured out that her role within International Rescue extended a little further than 'security' but had not as yet asked her to clarify. Her heart was racing as she watched him consider his options and then suddenly he nodded.

"Go."

"Thank you."

Kayo broke into a run across the lobby, into the east corridor and inside the stairwell. She took the steps two at a time and was out of breath as she emerged back out onto the third floor. Steadying her breathing as she walked quickly along to Dr Fletcher's office, she opened the door and almost fell over Alan and Gordon's outstretched legs as she hurried inside. Stepping over them and nodding a curt greeting to Scott as he stood up from the chair behind the desk, she planted the device on the desktop between them and wiped her face with her hand.

"Kayo?" Scott frowned, stepping back away from the ominous looking black box.

"Guys." Kayo sighed loudly, glancing at Alan and Gordon as they got to their feet. "We have a very serious problem."

"It _was_ him!" Alan gasped.

Kayo nodded, her ears still ringing from the fire alarm and her heart thumping against her chest.

Gordon stepped closer to her and frowned down at the device. "He was here?"

"I don't know." Kayo husked, her mouth dry. "John's going back over the security feed but - " She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "Guys, you need to get out of here."

"I think you're right."

Kayo spun back to look at Scott and could not help the smile of relief that pulled at her mouth. On her way to the office she had run through all his possible reactions and the inevitable argument that would follow but had not considered that he would simply agree.

The worry, and perhaps fear, that lined Scott's face did not change but he gave her a small nod. "We need to go."

"But, Virgil - " Gordon began.

"Is too sick to move." Scott countered firmly. "We'll come back for him as soon as he's stable."

"And I'll keep Grandma safe." Kayo confirmed. She watched the frightened glances Alan was giving Gordon and she reached out to place a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Alan. You just need to get back to the island. You'll be safe there."

Gordon gave a short laugh and shook his head. "It's the getting there that's the scary part."

"Yeah." Alan groaned, "Back through the hive of reporters at the airport."

Kayo smiled, "I think my new friends can help us with that."

"Oh really?" Alan grinned, instantly intrigued and glad for the distraction. "Do tell."

"Later." Kayo chuckled, helping them gather together the rucksacks and bags of various dirty and broken uniforms. She grabbed the device from the desk and tucked it inside one of the rucksacks.

"You sure that thing's not going to go off?" Scott asked warily.

Kayo nodded, "John scanned it for any explosives before he fried it." She patted the edge of the box that was sticking out of the top of the rucksack. "It's dead. But I'm hoping Brains can still get something from it."

"Where is John?" Scott asked, stepping into line as the four of them headed out into the corridor.

"In the security office. I still need his help."

"Understood."

"I'll arrange for transport to meet you at the rear entrance." Kayo instructed hurriedly, guiding them away from the elevators and towards the fire escape. "And please remember to do a security sweep of the Condor before you take her to the island."

"I will." Scott paused inside the entrance to the stairwell and took the rucksack from her. "You be careful."

"FAB." Kayo nodded firmly. "Go."

 _Tbc …_


End file.
